


Bound By Silver Tongue

by SheWhoWalksUnseen



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Ella Enchanted Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Barry Allen & Iris West Friendship, Curse of Obedience, F/M, Leonard & Lisa Snart Sibling Feels, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Poisoning, Very loosely follows the movie plot but elements of the book are incorporated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 106,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoWalksUnseen/pseuds/SheWhoWalksUnseen
Summary: Sara Lance had touched his nose then, as his mother explained, with a shake of her head. Magic bled from her fingertips, seeping into his veins. “He’s got a pair of lungs on him, doesn’t he?" Len let out another wail in response and she snorted. "My gift will be obedience. Now, stop crying, Leonard.”And for the first time that night, Len stopped crying.(In which Leonard is cursed, Lisa has an affinity for shiny things, Barry feels pressured, and Cisco just wants to save Central Kingdom.)





	1. Strange Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coldflashwavebaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/gifts).



> It's been years since I've posted but I'm alive! I'm very sorry to those are waiting for me to finish my other fics because I can't promise that I will. Life got real crazy in the past two years. 
> 
> This was also vaguely inspired by coldflashwavebaby's prompt, which helped kick-start a way for me to write this fantasy idea I've had in mind for a couple months, so this is in part a thanks for writing the prompt in the first place.

Lisa first cornered him about the curse when she was eight, huddled against her brother in the darkened bedroom long after their father had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, arms strewn haphazardly across the aging wood.

“Why do you do what he says?”

The single candle on the bedside table next to them cast a shadow over what he could see of Lisa’s pout, the flame wavering from the innocent whisper of a child who didn’t know better.

“I don’t always.”

Lisa huffed. Len’s lips twitched involuntarily at the sound.

“Yes, you do. I  _saw_ , Lenny.”

Lewis’ snoring drifted upstairs, faint but strong enough to carry the noise, ringing like a warning bell in Len’s ears. He considered himself lucky that the old man had stopped before he decided Lisa was an appropriate target as well that night.

He’d known Lisa would take notice sooner or later. She was bright for her age, both in thanks to the schooling Len had persuaded Lewis to let her take and his own efforts to educate his sister. There was little point in hiding his true nature.

Unfortunately, he’d made a promise long ago that shielded her from the honesty she craved.

“He said to stay still,” Lisa continued, tilting her head up to meet Len’s eyes from where she sat with her back against his chest, the persistence of her curiosity both admirable and frustrating, “and you  _did_.”

“I did.”

There was a brief moment of silence amidst Lewis’ snoring. Len waited it out, knowing Lisa wouldn’t give up easily. When she did, her voice was softer.

“You let him hurt you.”

 _Oh._ “I did.”

“Why?”

He sighed. That was the big question of the night, wasn’t it? He leaned back, moving his hands to Lisa’s waist to gently turn her so that they were facing one another. Lisa obeyed, brown eyes fixed on his own blue pair.

“I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.” It was part of the truth, though not the whole of it.

Lisa raised a hand, the pads of her fingers tracing the purpling bruises that spread like a wave of freckles across his jaw. Len held himself still as he watched her; the pain hadn’t faded yet, but he wasn’t about to let Lisa know that. There had been few times where Lisa had been on the receiving end of Lewis’ fists and Len wanted to keep it that way - he would have preferred the count to be nonexistent, but there was only so much he could do to distract his father at his worst.

“But he hurt  _you_ ,” she argued. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I don’t either, Lise.” He ruffled her hair with one hand, plastering a thin smile on his face. “But this is better, all right? I have to keep you safe.”

Lisa frowned. “Not  _better_.”

“Lise -”

“Stop lying, Lenny. Why did you let him hurt you?”

The command, despite her well-meaning intentions, sparked his obedience immediately. He didn’t bother resisting the familiar burn deep in his chest. “I couldn’t stop him. He told me to stay still so I did.”

The candor caught her off-guard and deepened her frown. Len ran his hand through her hair gentler as she dropped hers from his face. It was growing longer now, nearly reaching her armpits. They’d have to cut it soon before Lewis began complaining about the length.

Then again, he enjoyed griping about anything and everything when it came to Lisa. Any excuse he could think of to remind Len that  _you wanted her here and it’s your fault_.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Lisa hesitated, her eyes flitting between her brother and the door. She lowered her voice, clearly afraid of being overheard despite the current lack of danger.

“Are you  _special_?” The unspoken  _like me_ hung between them. They didn’t talk about Lisa’s mother, especially not around Lewis, but Len had spared her the bare details after the accidents started happening - bookshelves toppling whenever Lewis’s yelling frightened her, candles flaring, the occasional window cracking when tankards were thrown. Her mother’s identity was another inevitability that Len knew Lewis would rather lord over the girl than explain.

He shook his head. “No. Not like you. I’m -” He gritted his teeth as his obedience surged once more, forcing down the words on his tongue like bile. “I’m different,” he conceded.

Lisa didn’t look convinced. “Is it magic?”

Len nodded. Apparently, the curse would allow that much of a confirmation. Nevertheless, he was relieved that Lisa had managed to piece the explanation together without much help. He wished that he could explain the mistakes of his own mother to his sister, how one act of goodwill had changed his life - and certainly not for the better. The one person who would understand his pain, both of their lives altered by unwanted magic, couldn’t be shared the specifics of his curse, just like everyone else.

The only others who knew were either long since dead or who-knew-where living out her life, blissfully unaware of the terrible consequences she had unleashed.

Lisa leaned forward, knocking her forehead against Len’s lightly. She bit her bottom lip hard and stared. She was likely weighing the possibilities about whether he could tell her what was going on or not, so Len made the decision for her.

“I made a promise, Lise, when I was a little older than you, that I wouldn’t tell anyone about...this. So I can’t tell you anything. Doesn’t mean I’m going to hide it, though, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t like lying,” Lisa decided, her voice small.

Len nodded, prompting a giggle from Lisa as their foreheads rubbed uncomfortably. A more genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Fine. No lying. Now, it’s getting late. We’d better get to sleep.  _Someone_ has school tomorrow.”

The tension in their shared bedroom shattered at the reminder; Lisa groaned, slumping forward and dropping her head onto his shoulder. He chuckled as the groan dragged on, albeit muffled.

“No buts. It’s your first day back. Don’t you want to see your friends?”

Her head turned so they could lock gazes again, her scowl fierce. “Can’t I stay here with  _you_?”

Considering the fact that neither he nor Lewis would be at home tomorrow until after Lisa returned from school, thanks to Lewis’s insistence on Len joining him on a quick job, Lisa tagging along wasn’t an option.  She didn’t yet know where Lewis disappeared off to with Len on occasion, and despite the declaration of honesty he was planning to keep her in the dark about this for as long as he could.

Still, he pretended to ponder the question to humor her, scrunching his face in mock thought. “Hmm… Nope.”

“ _Lenny!_ ”

He shushed her with a finger half-jokingly, his eyes darting to the door. Lewis slept like the dead but Lisa’s shrieking could awaken anyone from even the deepest of slumbers. He spared half a second to listen for the telltale snoring before speaking at a lower volume.

“No buts, Lise. I mean it.”

“ _Fine_.” She buried her face into his shoulder once more and he leaned back against the headboard of the bed, fingers tangled in her hair as she yawned. She fell quiet and Len wondered for a long moment whether she truly was drifting off. It  _was_ late, after all. When she did speak up, Len had to tilt his head closer to catch her muffled words.

“I won’t make you do things like he does, Lenny. I promise.”

Len swallowed around a lump beginning to form in his throat. An ache unrelated to his curse gripped his heart. Lisa yawned and he shifted her weight so she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck when she woke. He waited until her breathing slowed, stroking her hair until he was certain she couldn’t hear him in her dreams, preparing himself for another night of keeping watch in case Lewis woke early.

“Thank you.”

 

***

 

Leonard Snart had been an inconsolable infant throughout the first three hours of his life. His mother had laughed recounting how he had wailed his way into the world, how the midwife had remarked that he “was going to be a handful, madam” as his wrinkly face reddened through the effort of his cries. Lewis had been out of town, tracking down a band of thieves with the rest of the palace guards, and thus she had gone through the birth alone, save for the midwife. Still, she had been quite content to rest and care for her newborn child in the empty house, promising that her husband would come back the next day and she would survive until then.

She didn’t realize that a fae would return that night to bestow a gift.

His mother had met one of the fae when she was no more than a girl, not yet sixteen. She had been on her way home from the town market upon spotting the woman, gossamer wings and all, fighting off unwanted advances from a pair of men. The advances had less to do with preconceptions of romance, she had explained to Len, but instead of the price on her head. Fae magic was coveted, a rarity in these parts, and a pair of fae wings cost enough to feed a starving family for a fortnight. It was no wonder that fae tended to hide their identities with simple cloaking spells these days.

Feeling sorry for the woman, though his mother had admitted to her son that she appeared to be doing a decent job of teaching those men a lesson on her own, she had decided to step in and help. She hadn’t thought much about the incident since then, not after giving her name to the fae grateful for her assistance and being sent home with a kind smile. She had not known then of fae customs, of the importance of granting her name after aiding a practicing fae godmother.

(Perhaps, if she had known better, she would have walked away, refused to offer her name, and saved the Snart family decades that couldn’t be bought back now.)

The fae ( _Sara Lance_ , she had murmured with a faint crook to her lips, as if the name were equally amusing and exasperating to recall) had appeared before her the night that she was nursing Len, unchanged in appearance since last she had seen the woman. She had gently taken the baby in her arms at request and began to rock Len in an attempt to soothe him.

However, Len had never been a good boy, even from the start, and refused to cease his wailing.

Sara Lance had touched his nose then, as his mother explained, with a shake of her head. Magic bled from her fingertips, seeping into his veins. “He’s got a pair of lungs on him, doesn’t he?” Len let out another wail in response and she snorted. “My gift will be obedience. Now, stop crying, Leonard.”

And for the first time that night, Len stopped crying.

His mother had been horrified. No amount of pleading had convinced Sara Lance to change her mind. Only the fae who granted the gift could remove it, and Sara Lance vanished before his mother could talk her into renegotiating.

(Len had never met the fae Sara Lance, seeing as how she had neglected to show her face from that night forth, but he had dreamed of running into her for years after his mother had explained the origin of his curse, dreamed of demanding the elusive fae to take it back. He never got the chance to tell his mother this.)

His mother hadn’t dared to tell Lewis when he returned the next day, blaming herself for the curse her son would bear the rest of his life. It took little more than a couple years before her husband - once a charming palace guard rising in his ranks - was caught trading palace jewels in a nearby village. After Lewis turned to drinking like an old friend, she had considered it a small mercy that only she knew the truth. She delayed sharing the details of his obedience to her own son, clinging to her guilt and her desire to see Len safe.

The first inkling Len had of the curse himself came on his fifth birthday. Lewis was out - he came back hours later with a knapsack full of trinkets to sell or hoard for himself, snapping a brief “happy birthday” when his mother pushed because  _heaven forbid_ he acknowledge his own son - so his mother had baked a cake for the two of them to share. He remembered sitting impatiently at the kitchen table, watching in awe as she mixed the ingredients and wanting to help - but his mother had told him to sit at the table and wait, so he was going to wait. By the time the cake was finished, all six layers, he was tapping his fingers with renewed eagerness on the wood of the table, eyeing the slice his mother carefully cut for him.

She laughed at his energy and shook her head. “Well, I see  _someone’s_ eager. Go ahead, Lenny. Dig in.”

The command was issued before she could take it back; she was already occupied with cutting her own slice, the reality of his condition not yet dawning.

Len picked up his fork and finished his first slice with gusto. By the time it was gone, his mother had taken her own first bite of the cake. She laughed again at the sight of his empty plate and cut him another slice.

He devoured that slice with ease too, though he wanted to slow down. Why wasn’t he slowing down? He had to keep eating, but he didn’t know why. He tried to stop only for his chest to sting like one of his father’s slaps to the side of his head.

When the slice on his plate was gone, Len dug his fork into the cake itself to shovel more into his mouth. The longer he chewed, the more it felt like he was swallowing around glue. Tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes.

His mother realized what was happening in that instant and her mouth fell open in horror. “Leonard, stop.”

Len dropped his fork and nearly gagged on the amount of cake left in his mouth. The burning in his chest vanished -  _like magic_ , he remembered thinking, not yet recognizing the irony in the idea. His mother cradled him to her as he cried, rubbing her fingers on the back of his neck to soothe his whimpering.

Neither of them told Lewis what had happened, nor of the enlightening conversation about his curse and his godmother that followed once Len had calmed down and could breathe properly once more.

At first, Len saw the gift as an inconvenience, nothing more. Sure, it was scary doing things he didn’t want to, but he was convinced after hearing his mother’s explanation about his gift that the fae would return someday to take it away. He resolved to help strangers too, just in case they were secretly fae. Maybe if he was good, they’d put in a good word with Sara Lance. His mother shot him a look every time he helped old ladies with their baskets from the market in town but he didn’t care. Len thought he had found the perfect way to get rid of the gift and he jumped on the opportunity to prove to everyone around him that  _see, I can be good_ without  _a curse!_

Then his mother fell ill days before Len’s tenth birthday.

Lewis was considerate and quiet for the first time in a long while; he allowed for Len to bring his mother soup and cool rags to dab at her forehead, sitting in a rickety chair beside the bed and watching his son take care of his wife with pursed lips. They didn’t have enough money to call on a healer. Len huddled beside his mother on the bed, unwilling to leave her alone as Lewis left each night to drink his weight in sorrows in the kitchen. Every time she coughed, her form trembled and Len held on tighter, murmuring a litany of “Go to sleep, Mother. Just go to sleep.”

The fourth night, his mother tapped her index finger on his cheek to draw him out of the haze of drowsiness that had begun to settle, her jaw set. Her other hand moved to his own and even at his young age, Len recognized the urgency in the action.

 _You cannot tell anyone about the gift, Leonard_ , she whispered, rubbing her thumb over the back of his small hand with tears glistening in her eyes.  _I forbid you to tell anyone else. Do you understand?_   _I won’t allow them to take advantage of you._

She refused to go to sleep until he promised her this, despite the fact that the obedience had already accepted the command.

Those were her final words, the last heard before his mother passed within the hour.

After his mother’s death, bitterness crept in. The idea of this Sara Lance living her life happily while his father took out his grief on him was nauseating. Len was alone, and there was no one to stall the raised fists and verbal lashing he received for simply being alive. He gave up on the idea of being rescued. He vowed never to let anyone hurt him the way his father or the fae who had cursed him had.

Thankfully, Len was smart. He took comfort in small victories of sheer spite.

He learned to defy Lewis through mischief - bringing him dishwater rather than beer if he demanded a drink or taking his sweet time getting ready for school - even if he wound up paying the price in blows and scars. The delayed actions caused the same searing ache in his chest, alongside nausea and dizziness on occasion, but he took pride in doing so. It was all he could do to keep himself sane and to remind himself that he  _could_ seize control of his curse, to an extent. Lewis didn’t appear any wiser in those early years; he found himself more and more preoccupied with his fists and the hazed stupor that rolled around every time he raised his tankard one too many times.

Len proved himself useful by tagging along whenever his father went into the village, obediently swiping objects from carts in the market at Lewis’ command. Losing his position only made Lewis more determined to steal what wasn’t his, and his son was more than agreeable about using his sticky fingers. Len learned how to be quiet as a mouse, how to distract his targets while pulling coin purses from coat pockets with ease, how the adrenaline and the thrill of walking away with unearned gold lifted both his and his father’s spirits. The praise afterward almost made each trip worth it, the slaps on his small shoulders both a warning and a reluctant relief.

(And if he began stashing coins under his pillows for later, for when Lewis forgot to cook or buy new clothes - well, that was none of his business.)

It was little more than a year after his mother’s passing that a baby girl, swaddled in cloth and crying softly from within her cocoon, arrived on their doorstep with a sealed envelope tucked into the folds of the white cloth.

Neither Lewis nor Len had known that Moira, with her bright eyes and nimble fingers and her ability to keep Lewis occupied whenever Len wanted a good night’s sleep, was secretly a fae.

Lewis wanted nothing to do with the child. He threatened to toss her down the well in the village, to leave her in the forest as an ogre’s next meal, breaking a kitchen chair in his rampage as Len clutched the baby to his chest. He swore that there lay no reason to keep a “half-breed freak under his roof” when he could barely afford to keep said roof himself. He drank himself to sleep that night and Len hid in his room with the baby girl -  _her name is Lisa_ , the letter had read,  _and I hope you are kind to her, as I see the good in you yet_ \- tucked against his skinny form, shushing her snuffling and rocking her slowly.

The next morning, Lewis allowed Lisa to stay. Len managed to convince him that people in the village wouldn’t be as quick to question any signs of theft when he had a baby to care for.

(The conversation still earned him a beating over his old man’s knee, but the cooing child with wide eyes in his arms made it worth the punishment. Was this what his mother had felt every time she had looked at him, watching him obey every command? This surge of protectiveness?

For the first time in almost a year, Len allowed himself to feel something other than bitter irritation.)

Lisa, thankfully, was a tamer child than Len had been, even with his gift of obedience. Despite the occasional temper tantrum thrown, Lisa adapted quickly to the way Lewis ran the household, keeping her mouth shut when he threw slurs her way or shouted at Len for no reason aside from being drunk off his ass. Len worked to protect Lisa from their father, especially as she grew out of toddlerhood, placing himself in harm’s way more often and hissing for Lisa to scurry into their bedroom. An ugly feeling clawed into his heart whenever he pictured the day Lewis had enough and went after his sister instead.

If his whole body was covered in scars and bruises at the end of the day, he considered it a job well done.

Since Lewis refused to grant Lisa her own room -  _what do I look like I’m made of, gold? -_ Lisa learned how to patch up cuts and wrap any wounds Len sustained after one of the robberies Lewis ordered him along on from the safety of their shared room. Her small hands were good for light work (he tried not to dread the idea of Lewis deciding to drag his sister along to nick coin purses too) and she was usually quiet and patient with his wincing and shifting away from the coolness of the wet cloth on his face. The thoughtful looks mingled with concern she sent him every time didn’t escape his notice, but he refused to outright explain what had caused the injuries. If she thought Lewis was taking out his anger outside of the cottage, so be it.

It was on one such afternoon when Lewis had told -  _ordered_ \- Len to return home while his old man veered toward the local tavern instead, that he realized how much danger the two of them were in.

The first thing he heard as he shut the door behind him was a series of shallow whimpers. Len froze and tilted his head, heart in his throat.

“Lisa?”

The whimpering grew in volume - upstairs, it was coming from upstairs - and Len dropped the knapsack with the stolen gold by the door before hurrying for the stairs. The cottage bordered the woods that shielded them from the nearest village and the Snarts never got visitors. Len ran through the possibilities in his head - it couldn’t be Lewis this time, he was in the village - had someone broken in? That wouldn’t explain why nothing was in a disarray or stolen - he hadn’t seen whether anything was missing, he ought to have checked before sprinting headfirst into danger - but who else could be hurting Lisa? It had to be her, she had finished school not an hour prior, but none of this made any sense -

“ _L - Lenny_ …”

He yanked the door to their bedroom open and his hand fell, jaw dropping.

“I - I didn’t  _mean_ to -”

His sister sat on the bed, hands shaking as she wrung them in front of her in earnest. Tears running down her cheeks, she didn’t brighten at the sight of her brother in the doorway; if anything, she cowered back, shrinking in on herself as if she were worried he’d shout.

For once, however, her well-being wasn’t his first priority. Lisa appeared shaken but not hurt.

However, the  _vines_ , each as thick as his forearm, encircling the frame of the bed and forming a canopy high over her head, were certainly a problem. Yellow flowers sprouted from the mass, dotting a path that led to Lisa’s terrified form. To his shock, more were already materializing, twisting up and around the bed the more Lisa shifted and cried. They almost seemed to be curling downward toward her in lieu of comfort.

It was impossible. Vines couldn’t grow through the floorboards, and not on the  _second floor_ of the cottage, no matter how dilapidated it was getting.

Len swallowed once, then twice in an effort to say  _something_. He’d spent years getting used to his curse, experienced the pull of magic every day, and yet the sight of  _this_ , his sister’s own creation that she couldn’t control -

“I c - can’t -”

Lisa’s terror-filled words snapped him out of his haze. He stepped forward, leaving the door open in case Lewis returned sooner than he expected. “Lise, it’s going to be fine,” he soothed, holding out a hand.

“I did th - this, Lenny,” she insisted. “I don’t  _know_ -”

Len was careful not to startle her, moving slow and edging to the end of the bed to face her full-on. “This isn’t your fault. You got scared, I’m guessing?” She nodded, and he smiled. “It’s just magic. I don’t think the plants want to hurt you.”

Lisa clutched her knees, her knuckles white. “M - Magic?”

“Yes, magic.” Len laid a hand over hers on her knee, ignoring the vines brushing and twitching against his own legs with difficulty. “You’re special, Lise.”

She hesitated, eyes wide, and he waited. He had wondered when Lisa was still a baby about whether she would be able to use magic (which had been both a wonderful and frightening thought and still was) but she hadn’t shown any noticeable signs until now. He wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing that she had waited to do so, given that Lewis wouldn’t be pleased either way when he found out what she could do.

Len was out of his depth. He had no means to protect her from  _herself_ , and while he knew the ins-and-outs of his own curse that didn’t entail him bearing pertinent knowledge about fae magic. Telling anyone in the village wasn’t an option and Lewis would throw her out if he uncovered the truth.

“I’m magic?” Lisa prodded with rising curiosity, though the fear still lingered.

Len nodded. “Your mother was a fae.” Her eyes lit up and the tension in his shoulders dropped a little. The vines near his legs began to retreat and he hoped they would disappear on their own. The mess would be impossible to hide if they remained. “That means you can do magic too.”

She wiped her eyes with one hand, leaving the other on her knees with Len’s covering it. “I d - don’t know how to make it go away.”

Taking this as a good sign, Len sat on the bed next to her. “Me neither. Maybe think of good things?”

“Good things?”

“Good things… Uh, happy thoughts to push away the scary ones?” He didn’t know if this was a decent solution, but it appeared to make sense to Lisa. After all, if the vines had been drawn forth as a result of fear, then surely an appeal to emotion was the correct route to take.

Lisa squeezed her eyes shut with a grimace. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in reassurance, eyeing the vines around them as they began to crumble into a fine, powdery dust. He raised a hand over their heads in a half-hearted effort to prevent the dust raining from the ceiling getting in their eyes, shuddering as some of it trickled down the back of his tunic. Lisa sucked in a shaky breath but remained still.

The two of them coughed as the cloud of dust settled, the massive vines reduced to nothing in a mere minute. Despite the uncertainty that clung in the face of what this would mean for them, Len couldn’t help but be awed by his sister.

A spike of unexpected jealousy struck him. He despised fae magic for everything it had done to his life, but Lisa had this beautiful gift that could do  _good_ rather than harm. What he wouldn’t give to be able to change his fate, remove his own curse with a wave of his hand.

Lisa cracked one eye open cautiously. Upon seeing her handiwork destroyed, she opened the other and released a deep breath. She looked up at Len and her expression twisted with relief.

She surged forward, nearly knocking him over, and wetness seeped into the fabric of his tunic. Her hands clawed his back as if she worried he’d run.

“ _Thank you, thank you, thank you_ -”

Len shoved down the envy that lurked in the corners of his mind and hugged her close. He laid his chin on her head with a chuckle.

“That was all you, sis.”

(That night after Lewis returned and Lisa lay fast asleep beside him, he counted out his growing collection of gold coins, tucking them into coin purses for safe-keeping. He was nearly of age, soon he wouldn’t have an excuse to stay in the cottage. The sooner they left, the better things would be.)

 

***

 

The blow to his cheek caught him off-guard, sending Len flailing forward. He considered it a mercy that Lisa had gone to bed hours ago, that she wasn’t here to see him hit the floor and struggle to turn around, teeth grinding.

“You know what this is?” Lewis’s eyes were slitted, fury painting his features with harsh brush strokes. The twist of a snarl in his lips sent a new wave of mixed fear and anger through Len. His eyes dropped to where Lewis pointed, heart sinking at the sight on the kitchen table.

_Shit._

He’d gotten careless, lazy,  _so stupid_.

Piled on the table, the purses full of his gold - and it  _was_ his, no matter how hard Lewis dared argue otherwise, he’d stolen it fair and square - sat, goading and mocking him.

He schooled his expression into a blank mask but he wasn’t fast enough; Lewis hauled him upright with one meaty hand, gripping tight on the back of his tunic as Len stumbled. “And where did you think you were going with these, Leo?” Len bit back a snarl of his own at the nickname - no one but Lewis called him “Leo”, not Lisa, not even his mother.

He didn’t speak, just stared at the table.

“That’s what I thought.”

The hand on his tunic curled, yanking him back against Lewis’s chest. Len’s hands twitched at his sides. “Now you listen here, and you listen well. You’re never going to try to hide something like this from me again. This gold is  _mine_ , and your disrespect is intolerable. And if you think you can skip out on your old man, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Len’s eyes traced the oak wood of the table, hating how his obedience sparked at his father’s words, hating the nausea roiling in his gut, simply  _hating_.

A dark chuckle caused his hackles to rise. Every muscle in his body tensed as Lewis continued, as if the humiliation and his very presence weren’t enough insult to the situation at hand. “There’s a job in Keystone, a full day’s ride from Central. Some duke passing on through with family jewels. You’re packing tonight and leaving to steal them.”

Len tasted bile as he fought the command. Forgetting himself for a second, he spat out, “And if I don’t?”

The expected slap or punch didn’t come. Lewis laughed again and somehow the delight in his voice was worse than any blow he would have thrown.

“That half-breed sister of yours won’t be here by the time you get back if you don't. Though you’re usually good at doing what you're told, aren’t you?”

Logically, he knew Lewis had to have figured out some idea about his curse, after nearly two decades of doing what the man told him. He knew the peace couldn’t have lasted, knew that Lewis was smart enough not to turn a blind eye when things started adding up.

Still, the numbness that settled in his chest as the words sank in, weighted with anchors dragging them to the bottom of his stomach, was unwanted.

(He’d been so careless, so lazy,  _so ridiculously stupid_.)

Lewis shoved him forward, a light push that rankled in the dim lighting of the kitchen. Len stood stiff as his father moved around him, collecting the coin purses one-by-one with false casualness as if he hadn’t tossed something convulsive and poisonous for Len’s ears alone into the middle of the room and was waiting for it to swallow the boy whole.

“Go pack. Then leave. You have a long ride ahead of you, son.”

He couldn’t muster the strength to fight, turning on his heel as the pressure in his bones lifted, the magic lightened by his compliance despite the tremors that ran over his hands, the heaviness in his heart at the mental image of Lisa waking tomorrow to find him gone for who-knew-how-long without saying goodbye.

That was the second time he gave up on removing the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heads-up about things that you probably noticed that deserve clarification:
> 
> Len ain't his canon age (which I believe is the same as WM's). There's almost an 11-year difference in this fic between Lisa and Len, and in every chapter forth Lisa is about 21-22 and Len is 31-nearly-32. In fact, Barry is also about 21-22 (because of reasons, I promise it makes sense, or it will later).
> 
> If you're expecting this to follow the movie or book plot strictly...sorry. That being said, it does resemble the movie's plotline more than the book's if you squint because I've always preferred it. Most of the world-building is stemming from my own notes though (I have like 20+ pages thus far, no joke). The chapter count may shrink or grow, depending on where my current outline decides to go.
> 
> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	2. Rally Til Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the future can wait and Lisa makes friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass. Both literally and metaphorically. Also, it somehow wound up longer than I anticipated and I'm still dissatisfied with it. Thank you for the lovely comments so far!

_Thirteen years later…_

 

“You’re late.”

The petulant tone he was greeted with as the door swung open hardly came as a surprise. Lisa had a habit of getting the first word whenever he returned.

Len’s hand fell from where he had been knocking on the aged wood, and the corners of Len’s mouth quirked into a thin smile. His sister’s lips were pursed into a pout, her eyes flitting over his face and down his body in her own cursory check for injuries (not that she was bound to find any, but he appreciated the gesture). Despite the harsh gaze, he knew her irritation was only skin-deep.

Two weeks was a long time, he reflected - but he’d known the risks of accepting the newest job in Star Kingdom from Lewis, had warned Lisa as much before his departure, just as he had for every job prior. The knowledge of this did nothing to assuage the clenched fist around his heart at the sight of the faint bags under Lisa’s eyes, the blossoming bruises peeking from beneath her sleeve. The marks were recent, from last night no doubt. As if sensing where his attention had fallen, she tucked the arm behind her back, doubling down on her insistent gaze.

“Roads are busy this time of year,” Len offered in lieu of an apology. He’d check her injuries once they were inside, away from prying eyes. Not that there were many to be found when all that surrounded the dilapidated cottage were woods and an old dirt path that led into the nearby town. “With more and more bandits on the loose, guards are cracking down on crime. Had to make an unexpected detour to avoid any _unpleasantries_.”

Lisa huffed, but she stepped aside. Len moved past her into the cottage and took note of the drawn curtains on the windows, the only sources of light that he could see.

“You _said_ ,” she pressed on as he made his way into the kitchen, his nose wrinkling at the familiar permeating stench of beer, “that you’d be back three days ago, Lenny. You promised in your last letter.”

Empty tankards littered the table, likely untouched from the previous night, so Len took a moment to scoop them up and deposit them onto the stove for now. Lewis was out again, so it seemed, which was for the best. Probably drinking himself sick at the closest tavern.

Fine by him. The last thing Len wanted after being away after a fortnight was a heartfelt chat with his father.

“Like I said, things got complicated, sis.” Len dropped his knapsack onto the table, heard the door shut not a moment later. His back, having grown stiff from carrying the weight over the past few days, cracked in relief. “The regent has doubled down on the people’s protection. Can’t imagine _why_ given he has a coronation to plan.”

Lisa didn’t comment on the sardonic tone, her footsteps drawing near as he undid the clasps on the knapsack. “You _promised_ , Lenny.”

He glanced over his shoulder, hands pausing. Lisa’s pout was still in place, but the sternness had begun to slip from her features. Flickers of relief in her brown eyes betrayed her. It was easy to forget that she was a few months past twenty-one; times like this, all he saw was the same little girl that had buried her face in his shoulder some nights when she couldn’t sleep, crying over their father’s latest attempts at showing ‘discipline’. Len could feel his own expression soften in the dimly-lit kitchen.

He never meant to worry Lisa when he left, had tried to assure her of this once his departures grew in frequency, but despite never voicing her concerns aloud he always spied the tension that clung at the edges of her gaze.

The irony of the situation didn’t evade him; if she ever told him to stay, he wouldn’t be able to resist, gift or no gift.

“How has he been?”

She knew what he was truly asking. _How have you been holding up? Did he hurt you?_

The stiffness in her shoulders dropped and she stepped closer. “The usual. He’s been passing out before dinner.” When Len continued to stare with scrutiny, Lisa rolled her eyes. “It’s a little bruise. I promise I’m fine. I’m a big girl now, I can handle him.”

 _You shouldn’t have to,_ he wanted to argue. His jaw clenched.

“Oh, stop scowling, Lenny.”

He must’ve indeed been scowling because his face slackened in an instant. It was a simple slip-of-the-tongue and he couldn’t fault his sister for it, but the regret still glittered in her eyes. Sometimes she forgot not to issue statements like that, forgetting that any commands he couldn’t disobey were still bound to be dangerous.

“Was it just last night?” Len pushed the subject, ignoring the apology he knew she wanted to give. Besides, he didn’t appreciate that she was treading delicately on the subject. If she was hurt, he wanted to know, curse or no curse.

“ _Y_ _es_. I’m fine. He fell asleep right after he grabbed me.”

Len scanned her face for familiar tells, eyes sharp. When he came up empty-handed, he allowed himself to relax. Lisa took notice and she sighed, though her exasperation bore nothing short of fondness.

“Now I hope you’re going to stop _glowering_ and _hug me_ , you ass.”

He chuckled but allowed his hands to drop away from the knapsack. He pulled Lisa into an embrace and her arms wound around him immediately, trapping him against her chest as her chin dropped to his shoulder. The weight of the worries that had occupied the back of his mind throughout the last couple weeks rolled off his back like water as she sighed against him, allowing him to shed the mask he’d grown to adopt around the world outside the cottage door. The unspoken _I missed you_ lingered amongst the musk of beer and furniture that was long past its prime for dusting. Expressing themselves plainly, and in such open, affectionate terms, had never been a strength in their family.

Lisa sighed, the puff of air tickling the curve of his ear before she drew back, shooting Len a smile. She placed her hands on her hips, straightening.

“Where did you go this time? Keystone?”

Despite the innocent question, he knew she had taken a liking to the trinkets he’d bring back from Keystone. The nobles there were quite careless when it came to keeping track of their jewels and gold. “Sadly, no. Lewis had me pay a visit to Star Kingdom.”

He turned back to the worn knapsack to throw it open. Lisa walked closer to peek inside, brushing his side. Len bit back a smile as her eyes lit up - precisely the reaction he’d hoped for.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the guards around Central were on high alert for signs of threats to the kingdom, and the long-standing alliance with Star Kingdom hadn’t made it any easier to escape without being caught. However, Len had decades of practice running from the palace guards and slipping under the noses of the high-and-mighty nobles passing through Star Kingdom was a relative walk in the park. The gold that Lewis had been expecting him to return with lay heavy in the bottom of the bag, divided into various coin purses so as not to draw suspicion in case he _was_ pulled aside by guards, along with a couple of gaudy rings and bracelets he’d managed to slip off fingers and wrists. Judging by their similarly overcompensating appearances, he assumed the women he’d stolen them from wouldn’t be missing their jewelry anytime soon.

The real prize that had caught Lisa’s attention lay half-buried under the coin purses, the gold of the necklace chain gleaming in the light of the kitchen. This he had stolen from a blonde in the markets of Star Kingdom; after she had attempted to steal the coins from his pocket, he hadn’t hesitated to use his own sticky fingers to nab the necklace. The chain was slim as Lisa unearthed it from the knapsack, a single pearl bobbing in the middle of the necklace. It was simple, elegant. Len knew he could’ve sold it, like Lewis tended to with the stolen goods he often returned with, but one look had told him Lisa would wear it far more than the thief in the marketplace.

“Busy, much?” Lisa flashed him a smile before turning back to the necklace. She clasped the chain around her neck, fingers fiddling with the pearl once it was in place. They’d have to hide it from Lewis later but for now he allowed his worries to ease as she admired the necklace.

“What can I say, I had some time on my hands. Figured the owner wouldn’t miss it since she tried to pick my pocket moments before.”

That wrought a laugh out of Lisa. “You, of all people?”

“I told her to take a swipe at the man crossing the road ahead of us,” Len admitted with a smirk. “A quid pro quo, one thief to another.” The memory of the girl’s wide eyes at getting caught and the eagerness she carried as she hurried off to nab the other man’s money had him fighting back a laugh of his own. She’d been no more than thirteen, by the looks of it, and had clearly needed the help and the money.

“Look at you,” Lisa said, swatting his shoulder, “a fine, upstanding citizen. Would’ve been funnier if she’d called you ‘sir’ or ‘my lord’.”

“She didn’t say much of anything. Doubt we would’ve had a long chat.”

“I suppose not.”

Lisa walked around the table to take the chair at the opposite end. Len watched her sit but refrained from taking his own chair. After all, he still had to sort out the gold. The jewelry could be sold on his own time, and preferably before Lewis found out about its existence under his roof.

“Do you know when you’re heading out again?” The casualness of the question didn’t fool Len. Lisa’s eyes had fallen to the pearl once more as she fiddled with it between her index finger and thumb.

“Not sure.” Len paused, watching her fingers stall in their movements - but only for a split-second before they continued. “I doubt it will be as long.”

The words weren’t a comfort, but he knew she needed to hear him say them. Neither of them had any control over his arrangement with Lewis, and certainly not when it involved Len bartering for Lisa’s life like this. His throat tightened as he busied himself with the knapsack, pulling out the jewelry and setting them on the table.

Not for the first time, Len wished he could take Lisa with him, escape with her to Keystone or even Star Kingdom before Lewis returned home with his beer in hand.

Life wasn’t full of happy-ever-afters, though. Not for liars and thieves.

“Speaking of trips,” Lisa spoke, cutting through the tension that had begun to thicken, her eyes sharp, “rumor has it that the prince himself is passing through the village later this afternoon. Something about speaking at the rally in the village with the regent before the big day, I imagine.”

Len raised an eyebrow. Now _that_ was interesting. It was likely a stunt to add fluff to the prince’s image, make him seem important to the people and serve as a reminder that the coronation was approaching. Still, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t curious as to why he was coming to the rally in person. If Wells was already going, surely there lay no need for the prince to join him.

“And?”

“ _And_ we are both going.”

He frowned. The gleam in her eyes wasn’t promising. “Lisa -”

She sighed. “You’ve been in and out of the house for nearly a month, Lenny. We’ve hardly spent any time together!”

“And going into the village to catch a glimpse of the prince is your idea of quality bonding?”

“If my memory serves me right, someone shot down the idea of _robbery_ , so yes,” Lisa shot back. Her lips pursed into a pout to emphasize her point.

“For good reason.”

“Lenny,” Lisa said, staring him down. Len cursed her stubbornness. She’d likely gotten it from him, after years spent struggling to survive and teaching her how to take care of herself when Lewis wouldn't. He really only had himself to blame for it. “We haven’t had time to ourselves in ages. You and I both know Lewis won’t be back until later tonight. I’ve been cooped up in this house for so long I’m going crazy. Will you humor me, just this once?”

The fact that she caught herself before phrasing the question as a command itched in a way he knew would manifest as guilt if he shot her down. Len sighed. She did have a point: Lewis wasn’t fond of allowing Lisa to go anywhere without him nearby, given his deep-set worry over what would happen if she were found out. His sister probably hadn’t stretched her legs ten feet from the front door in a while.

 _And_ , the sentimental voice in the back of his head whispered, _you_ have _missed her._

“What’s the rally for anyway? The coronation is less than a month away. You’d think Wells would keep him under lock and key for his own protection,” Len mused, avoiding an answer for the moment.

“Wanting interspecies peace, from what Shawna told me. ‘Uniting the people and our neighbors’...or something along those lines.” She rolled her eyes at his unimpressed stare. “My guess is the regent wants to parade him around like a lost puppy, pretend he’s been doing something for the past ten years other than sitting on the side.”

It was a fair assumption. Around Lisa’s tenth birthday, news of the King and Queen’s murders had begun to fly throughout the village, whispers of poison and spies within the castle rising around every corner. Lewis had grunted, said the royals had it coming, what with King Henry’s political marriage with Queen Nora. Folks still held prejudices against the Queen coming from fae blood, and it wasn’t entirely shocking that the murder of the Queen put a strain on relations with the fae. Len hadn’t cared much at the time - still didn’t, if he was honest - but he remembered feeling a twinge of sorrow for the young prince. The wound of his mother’s death wasn’t as painful to shoulder, but he couldn’t imagine having to reconcile with the loss of _two_ parents.

Harrison Wells, who had been the advisor to King Henry for nearly a decade prior to his death, had been appointed the king regent and mentor to Prince Bartholomew, who would take the throne when he came of age. The prince himself hadn’t been seen often outside of the castle and the nearby town in Central, however. Most citizens guessed that Wells was growing protective of the prince now that he was about to become King. He had every right to enforce precautions given the boy’s parents’ murder, truthfully, but it was curious that their future King had rarely been heard from.

Len remained indifferent to the situation for the most part, but if he had to dwell on the matter, he speculated that Wells simply liked control. The man, not a fortnight after being named regent, had begun writing laws limiting the realms and rights of neighboring species near Central Kingdom, after all. It was one of the reasons - aside from the obvious being Lewis and the prejudices that lingered today - that Len personally was hellbent on Lisa keeping her magic under wraps; magic aside from healing purposes was outlawed throughout Central Kingdom, including the fae that had once allied themselves with their lands. Len wasn’t keen on making friends with any of the fae residents in the kingdom himself, but the manner with which Wells was going about exiling the species was...a bit much. Rumors had begun spreading that the few fae who had ventured into Central Kingdom never made it out alive (which was ridiculous, but people believed anything these days). There had hardly been hide or hair of any fae since the laws had been put into place, likely having retreated to their own realms for protection.

If whatever grudge the regent held against the fae drew the kingdom into a full-on war, to hell with the consequences, Len was grabbing Lisa and high-tailing it out of Central for their own good.

“So,” Lisa cooed, her deceptively pleasant tone pulling him out of his thoughts, “can we go, Lenny?”

Len glared, eyeing the wide smile on her face. Right. She wasn’t going to drop the issue if the bright gleam in her eyes had anything to say about it. The longer he stared, the more she began to glare back, even with the smile present. He huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Don’t see why not. Might be interesting to hear what our future ruler has to say about the kingdom,” he said, feigning indifference as he closed the knapsack, keeping his eyes on the bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Lisa straighten and her smile only grew.

It would do Lisa good to get out of the house before Lewis ordered her away and turned his attention to Len’s stolen goods. Besides, she hadn’t been wrong about them not spending time together. Ever since he’d been started these trips out of the kingdom, they hadn’t spent more than a couple weeks or so with one another (likely so neither grew too comfortable or so Len could formulate a plan behind his father’s back).

And if he had happened to have heard about another noble family passing through later this afternoon on their way to Keystone...well, it only seemed fair to spend time with Lisa before paying them a visit.

 

***

 

The rally had gathered a surprising turn-out, though Cisco suspected it had to do with the presence of royalty rather than the issues being presented. More than half of the village had decided to show up, some peeking out from shops or from their carts in the market to catch a glimpse of the action. Anticipation was buzzing in the air, spreading like an infection among the onlookers as they shuffled closer to the makeshift platform in the center of the square. Someone had hung a bright banner between two shops behind the stage with red blocky letters reading _Welcome to Amplewick!_ scrawled across the material.

The guards standing at attention beside the stage eyed the crowd with wariness, hands twitching by their sides. Cisco snorted. Did they really believe the prince had anything to fear from less than a hundred villagers, some of whom were children or elderly?

 _He has a lot more to fear than an angry mob_ , a voice in the back of his mind reminded him. His stomach clenched.

Cisco pushed his way through the crowd forming in the village square, grimacing as a stray elbow collided with his side. He received a fair share of dirty looks - likely due to the shoving and the faint recognition that flickered behind their eyes once they caught sight of his face. He’d long since gotten used to being stared at, or worse, so he shrugged the rising annoyance aside. This was beyond him, this was a matter of life and death. If he happened to step on a few toes here and there, he was going to apologize under his breath and continue forth.

When he had been struck by the vision early that morning, sitting up in a cold sweat, eyes wide as saucers as Dante flew back from the bed, demanding to know what was wrong, he had hoped beyond belief that he was wrong. Still did, if he was honest. He’d only seen flashes, as he usually did when his dreams contained visions of the future - color and light blurring before his eyes, snaking through his mind, hissing in his ear like a lone crow perched by his ear. Cisco had been unable to explain it to his brother, unable to speak without hyperventilating or recalling the cold, lifeless eyes that had flashed briefly, the _yank_ on the magic in his gut entirely unwelcome and foreign. He’d never felt so terrified after a vision before.

He could still see glimpses of it now if he concentrated - glittering gold statues towering above him, daggers of ice and steel, darkness flooding the skies over the kingdom as the sun was blotted out, squashed like a helpless insect against -

A hand seized his arm as he made his way to the front, jolting him from his thoughts. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step back with the crowd.”

Cisco spared a glance at the man, recognizing him as one of the guards. The stern look on his face wasn’t promising. He forced himself not to rip his arm out of the other’s grasp. “I need to see the prince. I need to speak -”

“No can do.”

“The regent, then. It’s an urgent matter.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed. “The regent will be speaking at the rally -”

Frustration surged in his chest. “I _understand_. I need to speak to him in private. It’s a matter of life and death.”

 _That_ caught the man’s attention. He studied Cisco with trepidation, his suspicion evident, and his grip loosened. Cisco held his breath, trying to appear calm and collected.

“Any concerns with the regent can be brought to me. He’s busy currently.”

Damn it.

“This is a private matter. Please, just give me five minutes -”

“Father?” Another guard, a woman this time with similarly dark skin and bright eyes, walked over to them. Her eyes shifted between him and Cisco, her expression unreadable. “Is everything alright?”

Cisco jumped in before her father - and _wow_ , he could really see the resemblance now that they were standing next to each other and this was a _little_ awkward - could dismiss his concerns. “I need to speak with the regent. Or the prince. I just -” He paused to huff, shutting his eyes for a second. “I just need to speak to them, _please_.”

The woman glanced at her father, who still appeared unconvinced and had started glaring at him for addressing his daughter in front of him. She straightened and stepped closer, placing a hand on the guard’s arm that still clutched Cisco’s. _A reassurance_ , Cisco noted before he could think on the action. 

“The rally won’t start for another five minutes. If it’s urgent, he can make his case in that time.”

The guard’s glare didn’t ease as he released his grip. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

“I won’t leave him alone,” the other reassured him. The fact that they assumed he was a threat was frankly laughable, but Cisco kept quiet, hopes beginning to soar.

Her father nodded and gave Cisco another glance before walking off. Cisco turned to the woman, mouth already opening to thank her.

“This way.” She strode behind the stage and Cisco’s mouth slammed shut before he hurried after her. A pair of tents were erected in the square behind the stage, flaps rustling in the afternoon breeze. A few other guards eyed them as they approached, hands resting on the hilt of their swords with questioning stares.

Nerves seized his heart with a clawed hand, hard as steel and squeezing tight.

He shouldn’t be this anxious. Surely everything would be fine. The regent wasn’t a cruel man, despite what some said about his laws and policies. There was no need to be worried about his vision. The man would recognize the correct course of action to take and everything would be fine.

Still, he couldn’t help but resign himself to nervousness as the woman ducked into the nearest tent, her voice muffled to his ears. Cisco rubbed his palms over the front of his trousers, hoping to conceal the sweat forming on them.

Her head reappeared as she motioned for Cisco to enter and he sucked in a deep breath. He crossed the threshold of the tent and glanced around. A table with papers strewn across the surface sat in the middle, a lantern holding down a thick stack as it shed light throughout the tent.

The regent had his back facing the entrance when he walked in, but he didn’t turn. He was studying a large map, fingers tapping idly on a large province.

The guard nodded at Cisco, her gaze steely, before stepping outside the tent. Cisco had no doubt that she was standing at the ready, listening in case something happened. For some reason, the idea calmed his nerves for a moment.

“I heard this was an urgent matter?”

King Regent Harrison Wells stood taller and faced Cisco fully. He was an imposing figure despite the politeness in his voice, didn’t carry himself as arrogant or proud. Not that Cisco had met many royals who had - or many royals at all. He wore dark clothes, his tunic and trousers fitted and contrasting against the bronze circlet he wore.

His gaze met the regent’s own dark eyes and something under his skin sparked, flaring at his fingertips. He swallowed hard. Something was calling his magic forth against his will, a taut string on the verge of snapping twisting within his veins. His hands twitched against his will and he forced them to relax, stilling their motions swiftly. It was likely just the aura he could see clinging to the man before him, the power and authority he held within.

Wells’ eyes met his, still waiting patiently for an answer.

Unbidden, the clearest image from the vision drew to the forefront of Cisco’s mind, the cold stare he’d seen for mere moments accompanying it with earnest. The cruel, twisted smile flashed before him, familiar and yet unfamiliar, daring him to speak against it.

He watched again, watched the crown tumble to the stone floor, green eyes pleading and desperate, watched the blood seep through the ivory fabric of his tunic. He watched the man fall to his knees, clawing at his chest as his body began to pulse with energy, a single word forming on his lips - perhaps begging, perhaps a name, _he wished he understood_ \- as every vein lit up, searing Cisco’s eyes even in memory with brilliant light as an inhuman _scream_ was wrenched from a man’s lungs, the sound seizing his own heart with shaking hands, _squeezing_ -

Remembering himself, he cleared his throat once, then twice for good measure. He bent to give a short bow, face flushing.

He had no reason to panic. If anyone could help, it would be the regent. No one had more reason to care about the fate of the kingdom.

“Your Grace, my name is Francisco Ramon. And I believe your prince is going to die.”

 

***

 

Len’s face scrunched up at the size of the crowd gathering. “Nice to know people only care about the laws when it comes to appearances from their rulers,” he muttered.

“Come on, Lenny,” Lisa said, slipping a hand into his as he followed. Not that he would’ve fought the curse to do so, but he was tempted. “You can keep the grouchiness to a minimum for one afternoon.”

“I make no promises,” he teased.

Lisa rolled her eyes, but the action came less out of annoyance and more due to exasperation. “Even _you_ can’t be glum about getting to see _royalty._ ”

She wasn’t wrong. Part of him thrummed with curiosity, nerves tingling as they drew closer to the back of the crowd. Sure, the humidity wasn’t pleasant by any means, nor the idea of sticking close to other equally sweaty and impatient people, but he’d only seen the rich while picking their pockets or robbing carriages. He wasn’t _excited_ , necessarily, but it would be...intriguing, to get to see what the regent and prince were like.

He feigned nonchalance nonetheless, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of Lewis in the meantime. He highly doubted the man would be back before evening came if what Lisa had told him was true, but it didn’t stop the tendrils of ice from curling inside him at the thought of their father running into them out in the open like this. If he saw Lisa outside the house -

“ _Lenny_.”

He glanced at his sister. The knowing look in her eyes made him prickle with unease. Sometimes he wondered if her magic allowed her to have a sense of what he was thinking. He arched a brow, waiting out her reaction.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“No idea what you mean, dear sister.”

She pouted. “I thought you agreed to stop lying to me, Lenny.”

An itch crept into his chest that had nothing to do with the curse.

If he continued to pretend nothing was wrong, Lisa wouldn’t hesitate to leave him where he stood. She’d never order him to leave her alone - he had joked about it once not long after she’d learned the truth and her eyes had welled up with tears, ending _that_ conversation quickly - but he didn’t want to ruin what little time they’d have away from their father.

He chose his next words delicately. “Simply being careful, that’s all.”

“He isn’t here right now,” Lisa said. “You don’t need to worry. We have time.”

“Can never be too careful.”

“We’ll be fine. I’m not going to stay cooped up in that house forever, you know.”

Len didn’t intend to freeze at the remark but he couldn’t help the way his hands curled into fists. He schooled a blank look onto his face. He knew Lisa wouldn’t buy it for a minute.

He’d been thinking a lot as of late about Lisa’s status as leverage/prisoner. With her of age, there was little reason for her to remain home with Lewis and the man had to know it. Len had had more than a decade to contemplate what to do when Lisa’s time ran out, had made various contingency plans that he didn’t dare share with Lisa whenever he returned for fear of Lewis finding out. Unless she was married off soon - which was a viable solution given her beauty but the thought of her being sold as little more than cattle turned his stomach - it would be easy to explain her joining him on a trip out of Amplewick. Perhaps if he saved up enough to get a small shop he could get her far enough away before Lewis’s order for him to return (the only reason he hadn’t run off in the first place and tried to plant evidence on the man himself) reared its ugly head.

She wouldn’t forgive him for leaving her, especially without warning, but Len wasn’t foolish. Her life mattered far more than anything Lewis could hurt him with.

The people around them started cheering, startling Len. Some clapped as well, a few women whispering to each other as they grouped together, eyes fixed on the stage. Len realized quickly what they were cheering for - no, _whom_ \- after a quick cursory glance at said stage.

Two men stood at the center of the stage, courteous smiles growing on their faces at the crowd’s antics. Len recognized the slightly shorter man as the King Regent thanks to the few glimpses he’d seen in the past, all at a distance or from the road. Wells’s gaze roamed over the people before him with ill-conceived pride. His hand was clasped on the other man’s shoulder, a gesture that was likely meant to be reassuring but to Len’s eyes it was a warning: _Don’t touch him._

The prince - because Len would bet all the gold in the world that this was him, it _had_ to be him - was lean, long-limbed, with a gold crown nestled in his dark. A slight flush was dawning on his cheeks, he could see even from here, and the red of his tunic stood out against the sea of rags and earthy hues. Unlike Wells, who exuded confidence and calm control, the prince’s hands were twitching by his sides, his eyes darting around the crowd with little care.

He painted the perfect picture of someone who would rather be anywhere else.

Wells held up a hand to quiet the crowd, a chuckle escaping him as people began to do so. “Thank you for your warm welcome. It is such a pleasure to be able to join you here today.”

Len heard Lisa give an unladylike snort beside him and a half-smirk pulled at his mouth.

“As you can likely see, I didn’t make the journey alone.” Wells clapped the prince’s shoulder with the hand already settled upon it and the latter’s cheeks darkened. Not a fan of attention, then. “People of Amplewick, it gives me great pride to introduce you to his Royal Highness, your future King, Prince Bartholomew.”

More whistling and cheers erupted. Len fought the urge to roll his eyes. The theatricality of the situation nagged at him. Lisa hadn’t been wrong after all when she’d speculated the prince was simply a prize to be shown off. Not that he’d expected much from the man himself.

A man knocked into his right shoulder before he could ponder the subject further. Len stumbled into Lisa before he could right himself, shooting a glare at the stranger. The man had a scowl set on his face and muttered something unkind under his breath.

“Might want to watch where you’re going,” Len sneered.

The man’s head snapped in his direction as Wells began to quiet the crowd once more. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before the words sank in.

Ah. He hadn’t meant to be overheard.

“My apologies. Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly.” Lisa had noticed the rude stranger as well.

The man’s eyes grew round at the sight of Lisa and Len couldn’t help the way he tensed. He didn’t appear to have anything to worry about, though; the man coughed in a piss-poor attempt to hide the red of his cheeks and brushed his long dark hair behind his ear. His tattered brown cloak drew Len’s attention, the way his hands were clenching and unclenching in front of him. “Ah, sorry. I should…” He glanced over his shoulder at the stage and a curious expression hovered beneath his gaze, something that if Len didn’t know any better he’d call _anger_. “I should go.”

“Go? The rally’s only just begun.” The curiosity in Lisa’s voice was hardly pretense but her piercing stare served to make him squirm a little more. Len didn’t bother to suppress the surge of pride, lips curling up into a smirk.

The man gave a half-laugh, though it was forced and that glimpse of irritation still clung to the edges of his expression. “Yes, I suppose it has. Forgive me for saying this, however, but I’m not interested in listening to...fluff.”

“No need to apologize, honey.” Lisa peered at him through her lashes. Her expression softened, shifting into a demure persona that she used on Len when she wanted something (not that it worked more often than not). Why she wanted to strike up a conversation with the man who’d bumped into his shoulder was beyond him. “You’re not the only one thinking it. Though I don’t think I caught your name?”

He blinked. “Oh! Francisco Ramon,” he said, holding out a hand. “But everyone calls me Cisco.”

A switch flipped on in Len’s mind. He’d heard that name throughout the village when Lisa was younger - or the surname at least. Judging by Lisa’s own pause, she was starting to make the connection too.

“Would’ve thought a mage would be more interested in hearing about fae relations,” Len drawled, tilting his head.

The Ramons were well-known in Amplewick for their eccentricity, most of which stemmed from the family’s knowledge and use of magic. Mages were more common than fae in these parts but no less scoffed at. Len had steered clear of them in the past, not eager to run into more magic users and less eager to bring Lisa to their attention. He didn’t know what made mages different from fae, aside from the obvious difference in species. He assumed there were little dissimilarities, which nonetheless made them dangerous. Even if he had caught sight of the two brothers in the family pranking each other in the market, stealing bread from the other’s hands or turning fruit into doves.

Cisco’s hand fell. He didn’t appear shocked that the siblings knew who he was. Instead, he resigned himself to sighing, casting another angry glance at the stage. Wells was still talking about how the laws set in place would bring peace, the prince still twitching in place.

“Maybe I would if I knew they were doing something _useful_ about it.”

“All talk, no action?” Lisa offered. Maybe it was the prospect of meeting someone with similar magical capabilities but the coy smirk seemed to bear amusement toward his complaints.

“Precisely.” Something close to _fear_ crept into the man’s eyes before he turned back to them. It was gone so quick Len wasn’t sure whether he’d imagined the flicker of emotion. “You’d think the King Regent would care about the safety of his people more than what he doesn’t understand.”

Len and Lisa exchanged a private look. While he agreed with the sentiment, the bitterness that Cisco spoke with rubbed him wrong. As if he knew more than he was letting on.

Lisa recovered before he could comment or press the matter, walking around Len to offer her hand forth this time. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Lisa Snart. The grump is my brother Lenny.”

“ _Leonard_ ,” he corrected with a pointed look.

Cisco shook Lisa’s hand, a small smile growing on his lips. “Pleasure to meet you. I apologize for interrupting your view.”

“Nonsense,” Lisa waved him off with a laugh. “I was hoping for a more _entertaining_ outing but something tells me I’ve found it elsewhere.”

Len shook his head, long since used to his sister’s flirtations. Cisco, however, chuckled despite the flush her words brought. This time the sound was sincere, far from forced.

“I don’t know how good my company is at the moment.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I’d be _far_ more interested in hearing what _you_ have to say about all this.” She gestured toward the stage, keeping her eyes on Cisco as she spoke.

Genuine surprise lit up his eyes. “Me? Truly?”

“Of course. You seem more knowledgeable than the regent on the matter. Besides, I’ve always had an interest in magic myself.”

Len glared in warning but if she saw the look, she gave no indication. Cisco’s eyebrows were slowly climbing up his forehead.

“You have?”

“What? Can’t a girl be interested in magic too?”

“Of course, of course,” Cisco quickly backtracked. While he hadn’t meant harm with his comment, Len found his nervousness amusing. “It’s just - well… I don’t meet many people who like discussing magic.”

Lisa nodded. “I understand.”

“Not to interrupt this _fascinating_ conversation,” Len said, taking mild satisfaction at the way Cisco’s flush darkened, “but I do believe there is still a rally going on.”

“You can stay if you’d like, Lenny. Though I do believe you have an _errand_ to run.”

Of course she would suspect he had plans. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d committed a robbery after returning home the same day.

Her smile was tight, knowing. He averted his gaze so the small twinge of guilt went unacknowledged.

“Ah, yes. I’d almost forgotten.”

“Why don’t Cisco and I take a walk while you do so?”

“Are you certain?” Len searched her face, careful to keep the concern out of his tone. Despite the kind nature the man exudes, he didn't trust Cisco, didn't let his guard down.

“I don’t see the harm in getting to know each other.”

Len certainly did.

“I…” The mage hesitated, looking to Len before shrugging aside any misgivings. “I suppose a short walk wouldn’t hurt.”

Pleased by the support, Lisa arched a brow at Len expectantly.

She wanted to talk with Ramon about magic. That was fine. He didn’t mind cutting their time together short that afternoon. He hadn’t been planning on staying throughout the whole rally anyways.

His mind raced, calculating the odds. Lewis would be home by evening. He wouldn’t prepare a meal, so Len would need to be back by then to feed the two of them. Earlier if he wanted to hide his own treasures from the man and prepare the coin purses so Lewis wouldn’t nag him about it. That left him with an hour or so, plenty of time to stop the carriage and make his getaway.

Lewis had surprised them before and come home early, though. He remembered not two months ago when he had tried to take Lisa into the village and Lewis had arrived.

The bruises hadn’t faded for a week. He had been ordered to leave that night.

Lisa’s stare softened. “I’ll be home before dinner.”

They both knew _dinner_ wasn’t the problem.

He stifled the urge to sigh.

“I expect nothing less.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“We won’t be long,” Cisco promised, seeming to understand Len’s concern even if it was for the wrong reasons. Lisa could take care of herself. He knew that better than anyone. “Just a quick walk.”

“Watch the hour.”

Cisco nodded. Lisa’s lips curled but her stare was meaningful. _You too_.

She flipped her curls over a shoulder, her eyes bright with barely concealed excitement. “I suppose I’ll see you at home, Lenny.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She laughed, likely because her new companion couldn’t appreciate the irony, and slid an arm through Cisco’s. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Cisco’s own face was a vivid red by now but his smile was a far cry from the leering lesser men had often directed her way. He seemed a decent man, if a bit nervous. He led Lisa down the road, passing some of the now-empty shops as he began rambling. Len caught sight of Lisa shaking her head and something in him tightened. This was one of the few chances she had to bond with others outside of the house, or from friends she’d made in school. She deserved more than stolen hours spent looking over her shoulder for Lewis, for the foot to drop once she was behind closed doors and fists flew.

Len watched them go for a moment more before turning on his heel and making his way towards the woods. If he was correct, he had less than half an hour before a certain carriage passed through. As he drew further and further from any prying eyes, he allowed a smirk to cross his lips.

He fully intended to give them a _warm_ welcome to Amplewick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering when the actual action is going to begin, you'll be pleased with the next chapter.
> 
> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	3. Once Upon a Bauble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which petty theft occurs and Barry just wants some fresh air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter in two because of how long it got, which is part of the reason why it took over two weeks for me to get back to finishing it. Every time I thought Len and Barry were ready to stop talking, they proved me wrong. Things get rolling in this chapter, though, and your comments helped fuel my determination to get this one done.

Fewer things terrified Bartholomew Allen more than being on the receiving end of the scowl he shrunk from now. When he was younger, Joe had teased that all he had to do to get the boy to listen was to call for Iris, and he would bolt. Not in fear of his best friend - no, Barry could never be truly afraid of Iris West, though there were times when she appeared to be trying her best to _make_ him fear her - but rather in fear of seeing the intensity of her disappointment.

“ _Barry_.”

The urge to run was no less tempting as a grown man.

Iris’ black mare, Missy, snorted from where she was tied to the nearest tree, shaking out her tail. If horses could appear sympathetic, Missy was doing a fine job of trying.

“You know, when my father said that you’d try and sneak away the second I took my eyes off you, I thought he was joking.” Barry winced as her brow creased further, her arms crossed tight over the armor she wore on duty. She had removed her helmet the moment she’d cornered him, stray strands escaping the pins that held her dark hair away from her face. “I said, ‘That’s ridiculous! Barry knows better than that. He’d never try and jeopardize my rank!’”

Barry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, sending her a sheepish half-smile. “I’m sorry?” The apology came out like a question rather than a sincere statement.

He _was_ a little guilty about trying to ditch his best friend, even if she was here to keep an eye on him. He hadn’t meant to be gone long, just a quick walk through the woods before the time came to return to the castle. Joe had shaken his head when he had insisted on riding back later and Wells had made him promise to return before nightfall, but he hadn’t been able to fight his growing smile when the carriage and the other guards had ridden off. It had been easy to creep back to the edge of the woods to retrieve the cloak and his sword from where he had hidden them behind a large tree trunk, camouflaged by the bushes. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone, so he’d left the hood of his cloak down, reveling in the crisp air.

He should’ve known Iris would have followed him. He’d never been able to lie to her.

Iris huffed. “Now I know who _really_ gives him those gray hairs.”

“Hey, it’s a joint effort,” Barry pointed out. “He still makes me promise to look out for you every time we leave the castle. Remember what happened with Tony Woodward?”

“We’re not talking about _me_ , Barry,” Iris said quickly, her cheeks flushing at the memory. “Besides, I was _seventeen_ , and he deserved that punch.”

He really had, Barry conceded, a smug smile tugging at his mouth the longer he pictured Iris decking the man. If there were two things that angered her more than anything, it was being harassed and others making snide comments about Barry’s parents behind his back.

Iris shook her head, guessing where his thoughts were heading, not that she looked displeased by his amusement.

“My _point_ is that you’re supposed to trust us - _me_ \- to look out for you. People aren’t always friendly toward the royal family in these parts. Sure, they’ll welcome you into the village, but not everyone thinks highly of royalty. Bandits could be hiding out in these woods! If I didn’t know where you were, you could’ve gotten hurt.” Her grip on her crossed arms loosened as his smile vanished. “Barr, things aren’t as safe in Central as they once were.”

He sighed. “I know.” He’d been scolded about running off more than enough by Wells, especially as a child, and how the kingdom’s safety did not guarantee his own.

He knew Wells and Joe, and even Iris, just wanted to keep him safe, but it was exhausting to have to sit through the same lecture he’d heard the past decade, agreeing that _yes_ , he understood the dangers of wandering in the village, and _yes_ , he knew better than to go unarmed without palace guards around. It’d been years since he’d had a chance to explore outside the castle, beyond the brief trips to other kingdoms or into nearby towns, beyond even sneaking out on the rare occasion with Iris to simply clear his head. At least she was lenient more often than not with his flighty tendencies; Iris was stubborn, but she’d long since figured out that accompanying Barry on his escapades was the best way to ensure he returned home in one piece. Not that he minded the company.

He appreciated that there were people who cared about him, wanted to look out for him, but he was a grown man. He could take care of himself.

He wasn’t a petrified little boy anymore, sprinting down the corridor and screaming for help, for someone, _anyone_ to help his parents. Gone were the days where he would jump at flashes of red and yellow out of the corner of his eye, nearly hugging Joe’s legs when he tried to leave the room at night, biting back cries as his dreams taunted him with memories of his parents’ bodies _writhing_ as -

Barry swallowed a lump in his throat and averted his gaze, shoving the memory to the recesses of his mind.

Iris must have recognized something in his frown, some sign of sorrow, because her voice softened. “Barr… Are you alright?”

He mustered a smile and looked back at Iris. The knowing sheen in her dark eyes was enough to clear his head for the moment. “Fine. I’m fine.”

Iris didn’t appear convinced but she smiled back, uncrossing her arms finally. “Good,” she said, “because if we’re going to be back before dinner, we’ll need to be quick. We’ve only got a couple hours.”

Barry feigned surprise, eyes widening. “Oh? And here I thought you were mad at me?”

She swatted his shoulder and rolled her eyes. The exasperation she was aiming for was ruined by her persisting smile. “If you think I’m going to let you wander around this forest on your own, you’re sorely mistaken. Besides, how else would you make it back on time?”

“Very funny.” Barry’s affinity for running late had become a long-running gag amongst the servants, the guards - hell, even Wells - for as long as he could remember. Not that he hadn’t _tried_ to keep track of the time when he knew he had fittings or lessons. “If I had a gold coin for every time I heard that joke -”

“You’d be rich?” Iris teased, moving to tuck her helmet into one of the side bags on Missy’s saddle. She glanced back and laughed when she was met with his unimpressed stare. “There’s nothing wrong with a little tardiness, Barry.”

“Easy for you to say.”

She untied the mare from the tree, leading her onto the path. “I’m certain my father is going to give you a timepiece for your coronation. He’s convinced that you’ll oversleep and miss the ceremony.”

“Hey!” Barry paused, then groaned. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Iris laughed again as they began walking, Missy trailing beside them. “You see? What would you do without us?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten half this far without any of you.” The admission was less teasing, more candid than he intended, but it was the truth.

Barry still remembered the days following his parents’ murder, how he had holed himself up in his room after the royal funeral, listened to Joe and Wells argue when they thought he wasn’t around to hear. It’d been weeks before Iris had gotten a smile out of him, letting him cry on her shoulder when the nightmares worsened. Had it not been for the patience and kindness of the Wests and Wells, he was sure he would have continued to mourn for longer. He still missed them, even now at the brink of being named king, but it was a distant ache, a dull grieving.

He thought of his parents often these days. Would they be proud of him? Would they be planning balls and worrying about his safety outside of their watch like Wells was? Would they laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, a huge celebration for a man who hardly knew if he wanted to be king after all this time?

Would they think he was ready?

“Is that why we’re out here?”

Iris’ voice jolted him from his thoughts. “What?”

She shook her head at Barry’s confusion, though there was a hesitance to the action, as if he were a horse moments from being spooked by a bolt of lightning. “Is that what brought you out here to the forest? Reminiscing about good times?”

Barry averted his eyes. It was silly, but his heart flew to his throat at how casually she brought it up. Despite the tease, they both knew she didn’t mean anything by it.

Only Iris knew what was so special about these woods.

“Barry.”

“Is that why you’re here and not Joe?” He didn’t mean to snap, but Iris knew by now that wasn’t what upset him.

“Maybe.” Barry frowned. “Maybe it’s also because you’re my best friend and I care about you.”

He chanced a look at Iris’ face, hating the sadness that lingered in the corners of her smile, knowing he’d put it there. His gut clenched.

“You could’ve just told me,” she said, her voice soft again.

“Didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“ _Barry_.”

He sighed. “I know, I know. I’m being foolish.”

Iris slipped a hand into his own, the warmth grounding him. Moments like this reminded Barry of how long he’d loved her as a child, dreamed of marrying her someday despite their positions. He’d long since come to terms with moving on from the idea, but the simple comfort she offered him, comfort he allowed from no one else, was enough to remind him of that fantasy.

“No, you’re not. It’s not foolish to want to be alone,” Iris told him. “It’s certainly not foolish to want to visit either. Though I wasn’t joking about there being bandits in these parts.”

Barry snorted. “Well, at least I’ve got the best guard in all of Central Kingdom to protect me, then,” he joked.

“I mean it,” she said. “I could’ve come up with a better excuse for you than ‘I want to explore’.”

“They bought it.”

Iris raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We’ve known each other for how long now? And you truly believe my father thought you wanted to _explore_ Amplewick’s fine woods?” She gestured to their surroundings with her other hand to emphasize her point.

“Maybe I did. They’re nice. Quiet compared to the village.”

Not that there was anything wrong with the village itself. He just hadn’t been interested in being hounded by the citizens. He grimaced internally at the memory of the crowd cheering that afternoon, how eagerly they had accepted his presence when he hadn’t spoken a single word to prove he was capable of half the things Wells believed in him.

He hated the rallies and meetings in these villages and towns. He knew Wells meant well, trying to introduce him to the people he’d one day call his subjects - technically _should_ call his subjects as their prince, but it was hard to think of them as anything other than people - but he hated the public displays. He hated being shown his future in front of seas of faces he would never see again, seeing the hope that they held for his reign. It was so easy for them to believe he’d become a great king - “just like his father, what did I tell you?” - when he hadn’t _done_ anything to prove it. Barry didn’t mind allowing Wells to handle the laws and the diplomatic meetings with other advisors about the kingdom’s welfare (he’d welcomed them when he was younger, unable to parse what was being sad and what it would mean for the kingdom), but his father had always talked about his coronation and growing up as if it were this monumental achievement, this grand trophy Barry had earned after years of toil and hardship.

Over a decade had passed and Barry still felt as if he were being handed a consolation prize for sitting on his ass.

“Right. Because the trees are _so_ enticing,” Iris needled.

“They are. Just look at those leaves.” He released her hand to stoop and hold a browning leaf between them. “Don’t they make you want to explore too?”

Neither of them was able to keep a straight face before they burst out into peals of laughter, Missy huffing at their shenanigans. Barry let the leaf slip between his fingers as they continued on, pulling his cloak tighter to his body as a breeze rustled through the canopy above. The path was littered with plenty of leaves, grassy and worn from time and uneven stones. Missy’s hooves left faint imprints in the dirt the further they walked.

The shadows cast from the sun through the shade of the trees should’ve put the two of them on edge, made them wary of where they were heading and who else they might encounter alone in the forest. They’d spotted other villagers and riders passing through when they had visited before, Barry ducking his head to hide his face as Iris nodded from the shelter of her own cloak, but there was little to disguise their identities from anyone today. It wouldn’t be difficult to guess why a palace guard would be accompanying a strange young man, who bore similar features to the visiting prince, through the woods.

Yet, Barry felt none of the trepidation or unease that should’ve risen. It had been little more than a year since he had last snuck out to visit these woods, just as he had every year since he had been old enough to ride a horse, but it felt like no time had passed. The wind rustling through the leaves still sounded the same. The earth under his boots still felt the same, damp from the previous night’s rain. The woods were just as vibrant, full of life and thriving greenery that sent a faint hum through his veins.

He sucked in a breath, a contented smile tugging at his lips. Iris smiled at his behavior but said nothing. They both knew how much these trips meant to him, how much it meant to him to be able to return knowing what he knew now.

His mother had always said these woods were the friendliest in the kingdom, to which his father had laughed and shaken his head, though not unkindly. She’d taken him here when he was seven, showed him the way the forest seemed to whisper when no one was looking, the soft voices of the wind and the caress of the leaves in spring before they shriveled come winter. He hadn’t understood as a child that others weren’t able to understand these things or hear the buzz of magic in the air, delighting in these “secrets”, as his mother had called them.

She had come to these woods when she was a child herself, frequenting them more and more as she had grown older. It was the closest to her home, she’d said, and once she set foot there she never wanted to leave.

“There’s always life in nature, Barry,” she had told him the first time they’d come, smiling at the wonder in his eyes. “And where there’s life, there’s magic.”

It was then that she’d taken him to the stream she’d found - and frequented - when she was young. It didn’t take Barry and Iris long before they stumbled off the path, recognizing the wildflowers that led the way to the clearing where it resided, the bank dropping off at the edge of the clearing to reveal the crystal-clear waters running over stone. The grass grew taller here, wild and untamed by human hands, and between the two of them and Missy, it was a little bit of a struggle to wade to the river’s boundary. More wildflowers in bright hues had sprouted since his last visit. He held a hand out and ran his fingers lightly against their petals. The whispering that had been niggling in his ears throughout their walk surged for a second, a thrum of something close to pleasure swelling around him.

Iris tied Missy’s reins to the closest tree’s branch and nudged Barry with her arm, gentle and questioning. Barry met her eyes and smiled to show her he was fine. The nostalgia and magic wasn’t always a soothing combination when he remembered his parents, particularly his mother, here, and more than once she’d held him near this stream while he cried, the grass withering by their feet. Her presence was a comfort even with the pleasant memories of his childhood at the forefront of his mind.

Barry sat at the edge of the stream and Iris joined him, lacing her fingers in his when he offered his hand. He laid his free hand in the grass beside him, tracing the dirt with just the pads of his fingers and breathing deep.

“This used to be a meeting ground for fae,” his mother had said when she’d sat him down in this very clearing, her red hair tickling his ear as she wrapped her arms around his small form. “They used to come here and talk and listen to the magic.”

“Why did they stop?”

She’d laughed at his curiosity, soft and melancholy. “Things change. Nature changes. People don’t always see magic as a good thing.”

“Why not?”

She hadn’t had an answer for that.

Barry shut his eyes and suppressed the grimace that rose, focusing on the whispers and the hum of nature and the old magic coming to life around them. His hand squeezed Iris’ as warmth danced in his veins, playful like a kitten swatting a stray string of yarn. If there was a singular voice to the magic, he would swear it would say, _What took you so long?_

The thought almost made him chuckle. The earth under his free hand pulsed as if the forest shared his amusement.

He made a habit of coming to this clearing, sitting by this river every year. He usually tried to sneak out close to the anniversary of his parents’ death, despite the hollow relief it brought, but it felt right to come now, when he was a month from being crowned king.

It was a reminder: he was still the little boy, in some ways, who loved this, the magic and the life it shared with him if he were willing enough to let it in. Not the prince who was meant to lead a kingdom in mere weeks. Not a king who had no plan for the future and its inhabitants.

The tendrils of unseen magic curled around the two of them and Barry knew from Iris’ surprised gasp, quiet as it was, that she felt the warm caress over her as well. She was never good at hiding her surprise about it, no matter how often she joined Barry at the stream. He wondered if it would be a shock if he couldn’t hear the whispers, feel the shifting sea of magic, of _life_ twisting in and around the clearing and in his bones. Every nerve flared within him, sparking a fire in his chest.

Barry opened his eyes. Not for the first time, he wished he could see the magic in the air, wished Iris could too for a brief moment, so he could pinpoint its waves and the voices buzzing like bees through the afternoon breeze.

He had tried to explain what it felt like to her before - to Joe and Wells when he was younger too - but there were hardly words enough to describe magic in the way Barry wanted to. Iris and Joe treated his magic much like the king had, shaking their heads and watching with ill-disguised awe, but every time he tried to talk about the feeling itself he wound up changing the subject. Wells understood best, since he had experience with mages and confided to Barry that his family had a shred of potential for magic in their blood. He wasn’t an easy confidant to talk to, though, and he was typically busy despite his encouragement about Barry using his magic around the castle.

So he kept quiet and simply _felt_ , sitting with his best friend in the eye of the proverbial storm, whispers and magic converging lazily within the canopy of the forest.

“ _Help!_ ”

The connection faltered, stuttering to a stop as Iris released his hand and jerked around, hand moving to her sword hilt. They waited and the cry rang out again, sharper and more hysterical this time. The voices hissed at the intrusion, the harsh reminder of the world outside of this moment in time.

Iris stood, immediately moving to untie Missy. “I have to see what’s wrong.”

“Missy can carry both of us.”

“No, you stay here.”

Barry glowered. “Iris -”

“No, Barry,” she said, the stern glint in her eyes daring him to argue. She was falling into her role as the palace guard again, authoritative and protective. “They’ll recognize you in a heartbeat.”

“I can _help_ , though!”

“We don’t know what the problem is yet. If there are thieves or bandits, I can scare them off. If they see the prince riding with me, they won’t scare so easily. Or worse, they could go after you too.”

He sighed. “Didn’t we _just_ have this conversation?”

The corners of her lips twitched like they were struggling to remember how to smile. “Barry, do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.

“Then please,” Iris said, swinging herself onto Missy’s back and putting on her helmet, “stay here. I’ll be right back. If I’m gone for longer than ten minutes, come find me. But _only_ then, Barry.”

She held his gaze and Barry ran a hand over his face, swallowing his indignation. The magic still thrumming in his veins longed to tear free, to snap at Iris’ protectiveness.

“I’ll be right here,” he promised. “Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes.”

Barry nodded. Her shoulders drooped for a split-second in relief before she rode out of the clearing, the woman’s cries still coming over the sound of the river running over stone. Barry stared after her for a minute before turning away, rising to his feet.

Sometimes he wished he wasn’t the prince, wished he could just be the fae connecting with the magic in the world around him.

It wouldn’t do him any good to act resentful and ponder _what ifs_ , though. Iris would be back soon and she’d remind him that there was nothing to worry about. There weren’t many people who rode through these woods anyway.

Barry looked down, spying the faint imprints of where his hand had curled in the dirt by the river, the blades of grass curling inward as if they missed its presence. He brushed his palms on his trousers, not caring about the grass and dirt that clung to the fabric. They’d likely fly off when he and Iris rode back later.

The woman’s shouts stopped. Barry wasn’t sure whether he ought to be relieved or not.

The voices surged, louder and urgent, trying to warn him of something. His skin prickled and his hand inched toward his own sword, hidden by the worn cloak. He glanced to the side, but he didn’t see anything. He didn’t dare call for his magic, especially if there was someone other than Iris nearby. Just because it was common knowledge that his mother was fae didn’t mean his own abilities were well-known.

He shifted in place, the voices insistent, but he saw no one and there were no signs of anyone watching him.

Maybe he was being paranoid.

His hand began to fall from the hilt of the sword.

A twig snapped behind him and Barry didn’t think; he whirled around, unsheathing his blade and holding it between himself and whoever was approaching, heart in his throat.

“Whoa, there!” The intruder, a man with close-cropped dark hair who was nearly as tall as Barry, held his hands up in surrender, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He had just entered the clearing, having come from the bushes rather than the grass Barry and Iris had waded through. The hood of his dingy cloak was pulled behind his head rather than up, giving him a plain view of steely blue eyes and high cheekbones. Underneath the cloak, he spotted a dark blue tunic and black trousers, the former with a narrow cut showing off his neck and prominent collarbones. He carried a knapsack slung over one shoulder, brown and worn from use, clearly full. He was likely passing through, a traveler on his way home.

A mere traveler whom Barry had almost skewered.

He lowered his arm with no small amount of sheepishness. “Sorry. I… I thought you were someone else.”

The man smirked. Something about the way he carried himself looked far from friendly, his eyes running down Barry’s form curiously, but he didn’t feel threatened. The action sent a shiver up his spine instead. He got the sense that he was being sized up - not as a threat, but as an interesting discovery, a marvel one might find tucked away under their bed for safe-keeping.

He wasn’t sure why the undercurrent of magic lingering in the clearing would be so worried about a weary traveler.

“Well, I’d hate to see what you’d have done to the poor sap you’re waiting for.”

Barry chuckled and sheathed his sword. “I wouldn’t have actually attacked you.”

“I’ll take your word for it...Your Highness.”

Barry’s stomach plummeted to the ground. The voices quieted, the thick near-silence mimicking the tension in his shoulders.

_Shit._

The man dropped his hands, delighted by Barry’s reaction. Something about his expression kindled the indignation that Iris’ protectiveness had sparked minutes before. “Relax, kid. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

“I’m not a kid. And who said anything about hurting me?”

“The terrified look on your face, for one.”

Barry scowled and the man laughed, stepping closer. The sound, low and knowing, made his insides curl against his will.

“How do you know who I am?” Barry demanded. He knew he ought to run, ought to stop questioning the stranger who somehow knew he was royalty and find Iris instead, but the piercing blue eyes kept him frozen.

“Saw you an hour or so ago, if I’m not mistaken,” the man drawled. Right, the rally. Barry could’ve kicked himself for forgetting about that. “Wasn’t much of a rally, of course. Though I _certainly_ didn’t expect to see you this far from your guards. Does your regent know where you’ve run off to?”

“He knows I’m in Amplewick.”

The man nodded as if that were enough of an answer. “That why you’re hiding under a flimsy blanket?”

Barry’s scowl deepened. “I ought to ask you the same question…”

The man didn’t offer forth a name like Barry had hoped (he wasn’t certain he _wanted_ to know the name of this smug stranger, truthfully). “Only one of us is running from our responsibilities here.”

“I’m not running from anything.”

“Oh? So fumbling with your sword and lurking in the woods with only a cloak to disguise your face, with no guards or regents around for miles, is just a hobby you indulge in your spare time?”

The mocking lilt to his voice made Barry grit his teeth. “You really think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?”

“More or less,” the man said, his smirk growing.

Barry shook his head in disbelief. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not running from anything, or _anyone_ , nor am I hiding.”

The man simply watched him, cool and calculating even while amused at his defensive words. It was clear he wasn’t any more convinced after his declaration of innocence.

Fine. Barry didn’t need someone who made his disdain for royalty this obvious to believe him.

The longer they stared, however, something flickered across the man’s face, giving him pause. His eyes narrowed as if he had remembered something of importance but wasn’t sure how to proceed. “As much fun as this is, I have places to be. Good day, Your Highness.”

He started left out of the clearing. The voices rose in volume, not nearly as loud as they had been but it was enough to feel like a warning. Barry hesitated, listening for a moment to their murmurings, the prickling sensation he had felt upon meeting the man resurging in his chest.

Why _him_?He wanted to shake some corporeal form of these voices, demand an answer. After all, minutes ago they had been warning him of the stranger’s presence and now they were insisting he follow the man?

Absolutely not.

Iris would be back soon. He ought to stay put. She would be furious if he ran after she had made him promise not to.

The tinny voices continued to hum in his ear. He shut his eyes, resisting the urge to sigh. He could almost hear Iris scolding him over his recklessness again.

Barry headed after the stranger, hurrying through the tall grass to catch up. Despite being older than Barry, he moved at a brisk pace for someone passing through the forest.

“The village isn’t in that direction, you know.”

If he was surprised by Barry following him, the man gave no indication. “Who said I was heading into the village?”

“There’s nothing but woods for miles. Unless you live in the woods… Not that I’m saying that’s a bad thing!” He winced. Perhaps he shouldn’t the one to be lecturing others on their lifestyles, given that he lived in a _castle_.

“I don’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” The other’s tone suggested he was mocking Barry’s words.

“Look, just -” Barry huffed and came to a halt, crossing his arms over his chest. “ _Wait_ a second.”

To his surprise, the man stopped as well, his posture stiffening. He turned his head halfway to meet Barry’s gaze, calculating and cold. Barry floundered for a moment, not having expected to be heard out.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He took a step forward, grateful that the man didn’t scoff or run off. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

The man paused, staring Barry down. That strange flicker returned behind his eyes. He tilted his head. The shiver that look had roused crept back up his spine.

“Len,” he said shortly. “Pardon me for being direct, but I don’t need your chivalry, and I have no intention of bowing, _Your Highness_.” Something about the way he sneered the title rubbed Barry wrong, as if it were a stain on his trousers.

“Barry. Call me Barry.”

The man - _Len_ \- rolled his eyes and faced Barry fully. “Will that be all, _Barry_?”

“And you don’t have to bow,” Barry said, ignoring the sardonic comment. “I mean, it’s your choice, obviously, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t anyways. There’s really nothing I can do about it.”

“Charming.”

“Are you like this with everyone?”

“Only princes who waste my time,” Len shot back. He turned away and began walking again.

Barry caught up with his strides quicker this time, side-by-side with the man. The furrowing of his brow was the only sign of his frustration.

“For someone who’s meant to rule the kingdom someday, you’re not very good at taking a hint.”

“And you’re the first person all day who hasn’t cheered or swooned upon meeting me,” Barry retorted.

“Then maybe I’ve done you some good.”

Barry tried to glower at him but he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him in the process. He wasn’t unused to people thinking him arrogant, just another highborn noble who had everything handed to him on a silver platter. While the thought was annoying, he understood that people had a right to judge him when they’d likely never meet him face-to-face. Not everyone would agree with the laws of the land or appreciate the effort Wells went through to ensure peace throughout Central Kingdom.

He’d never been shown such blunt irritation openly, though.

“If you’re not on your way to Amplewick,” Barry said after a long few moments of silence, stepping over a tree root, “then where _are_ you heading?”

A small quirk lifted one side of Len’s mouth before the cold expression - which seemed more of a mask than anything now that Barry studied him up close - erased it. He didn’t look over, keeping his gaze pointed straight ahead.

“Home.”

Barry frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t live in the woods?” The tone came out less teasing than he intended, genuine curiosity coloring his words.

“I don’t.”

That wasn’t any less confusing. Barry said as much which had Len rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t realize this was an interrogation. Do you normally follow strangers home? Seems like a bad habit to have.”

“I’m just saying. You’ve packed a lot for someone on his way home from...wherever it is you’re coming from.”

Len came to a stop and Barry hardly had time to follow suit before he was being pushed against the nearest tree trunk, a firm hand on his chest. He opened his mouth to protest but the sharp glint in Len’s eyes warned him against doing so. The man removed the knapsack with his other hand, dropping it on the ground beside their feet as if it were a hazard to what he wanted to do next. Something metal bumped against his knee and a quick glance down revealed that somehow he’d missed the _sword_ hanging off of Len’s belt until now.

Perhaps provoking the strange man hadn’t been his smartest idea.

Len didn’t go for the sword, his eyes fixed on Barry’s. His heart rate picked up as the hand, warm and solid despite the barrier of his tunic between Len’s fingers and his skin, pressed him harder against the bark as he stepped closer. He was broader than Barry despite the inch the latter had on him and he didn’t think testing Len’s strength was a clever plan even with the sword hovering between them. Barry blamed the flush of his cheeks entirely on the uncertainty of the situation, the clear danger he ought to be in - _was_ in, since he was not only being cornered by an armed stranger but someone who knew exactly who he was.

He stared back and waited.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Len said, slow and careful. “What do you want?”

Barry blinked. “Uh, what?”

“You’re following me for a reason, now _spit it out_.”

He wasn’t sure why, but he got the sense that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle here, something dangling right under his nose that he ought to know about this _Len_. “I don’t want anything. I’m just…” He paused. Somehow, admitting that _the fae magic back by the stream was telling me to follow you and talk to you_ didn’t sound endearing. “I’m just curious.”

“Curious.”

Barry nodded. “Yes. Should I not be?”

Len tilted his head, the icy glare fading the longer he remained quiet. The pressure of Len’s hand lessened against his chest and he found himself feeling oddly bereft as he dropped it. Barry couldn’t help but feel as if he had passed a sort of test.

“You’re one of the strangest men I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t usually meet strange men on your way home through the woods?”

A ghost of a smile finally shone on his lips. “Not usually, no.”

The two of them stood in silence, but it was far from uncomfortable this time. Barry’s cheeks darkened as he realized how close they were, mere inches apart, their breaths mingling. They had left the clearing but somehow the air grew heavy without the weight of magic, charged with something Barry couldn’t quite pin down.

Barry swallowed, watching how Len’s eyes darted to the movement before he cleared his throat, moving to the side so he wasn’t pressed into the tree. He could already feel the slight ache in his back from being roughly shoved against it.

In the brief second he glanced away, Len had turned and begun walking again, slower and less hurried but no less impatient. Maybe he truly did have somewhere to be.

“If you’re not hiding and you’re not running,” Len said over his shoulder, inciting Barry to pursue him once more, “then what _are_ you doing out here on your lonesome, kid?”

“I’m hardly a child. Also, I believe I told you to call me Barry,” he reminded Len.

“Still avoiding the question, _Barry_.”

He would have smiled at the sardonic tone if the inquiry hadn’t focused on a...delicate subject. He ran a hand through his hair with a grimace. The only people who knew about his trips with his mother were Iris, Joe, and Wells, though the latter two didn’t know specifics nearly as well as Iris. Most of the kingdom likely didn’t know - or think on, since his mother being fae was common knowledge - about Barry’s own capabilities with magic, and Wells had urged him to keep that within the castle walls.

He wasn’t foolish enough to speak of magic with a stranger anyway. Barry had seen the way some people looked at local mages, sometimes performing parlor tricks for children in nearby towns or assisting healers. Old prejudices never died, so it seemed. He didn’t want to grant Len another reason to dislike him.

“You know, if you live nearby, I’m shocked we haven’t run into each other before now. I used to come here often as a child.”

That appeared to surprise Len. “You did?”

“My mother took me here,” he explained. “She always liked these woods. Amplewick is a nice village too. We used to go to the markets in the summer.”

Len’s brow creased. Whether it was out of confusion or something else, he wasn’t certain. “I think I would’ve remembered seeing the Queen and her son shopping in the summer markets.”

Barry chuckled. “We never stayed for long. We mostly came to walk in the woods. It’s peaceful here.”

“You snuck away for a _walk_?”

“Something like that.”

Len shook his head incredulously. “Unbelievable.”

“You were the one who said I was strange,” Barry pointed out, perhaps a little too coyly.

“I stand by that statement.”

If Len were Iris, he would’ve nudged her shoulder, laughed at the teasing remark as she pushed back. Something about the tension that never seemed to leave Len’s posture hinted that initiating physical contact might not be a good idea, though, so he contented himself with cocking an eyebrow. “Says the man with such obvious disdain for royalty.”

“Obvious?” Len’s expression was the epitome of mock offense, all wide-eyed and aghast. “And here I was trying so _hard_ to hide it.”

Barry chuckled again and fell silent for a few moments as they walked on.

“I don’t blame you for your...contempt. I know not everyone likes Wells or myself or even my parents. And I’m not trying to change your mind, if that’s what you think I’m here for. It’s just… It’s been a long time since anyone’s been so blunt about it to my face.”

There had been others, before Len, who had scorned and sneered in his face when they came to Wells to be heard about their complaints, calling him things that he knew had to do with either his fae blood or the politics he represented. He’d been younger then, more bewildered and mildly terrified in the face of the leering even as Joe ushered them away, shielding him from view. He hadn’t understood why they had yelled or spat at his feet when he’d done nothing wrong.

Sometimes he still didn’t understand it, how people could be so cruel over opinions and snap judgments.

Len didn’t respond at first. Barry didn’t push; he likely hadn’t expected such a candid declaration. He couldn’t help but wonder what had jaded Len toward royalty, wondering whether it was a knee-jerk reaction at this point or a legitimate grudge that he held.

“That why you acted the way you did at the rally?”

Barry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nervous. Quiet. Letting Wells walk all over you.”

Barry’s stomach churned and he didn’t know why. “I wasn’t -”

“I was _there,_ ” Len told him. “All you did was fidget and smile.”

“He was handling the talk about interspecies laws,” Barry said. “He had everything covered.” And he had. Barry knew little about the laws in the first place, and the people already trusted Wells enough so he had been more than relieved to allow Wells to take over the rally and speak on behalf of them both.

Len glanced over. His expression screamed the words _You really believe that?_ “Do you always let him talk over you?”

“He _doesn’t_ -”

“You stood there like a puppet and smiled like a good boy.” Barry winced at the brutality of Len’s tone. “All we got today was a lecture and some fluff on how things will be better in the future because of everything he’s planned for the two of you to do, which, judging by your face, I’d say you barely had a hand in. Do you even _know_ what goes on beyond your castle walls?”

“I know enough,” Barry snapped. Anger began to roll in his chest like oncoming thunder. He could tolerate a difference in opinions but openly bad-mouthing a man who had helped raise him in the face of his parents’ murder was another matter entirely. He refused to stand for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but Wells is a good man. There’s a reason I trust him as King Regent. Even if you don’t.”

“Hard to trust a man who doesn’t say what he means.”

“I trust him with my _life._ ”

“And the whole of the kingdom as well?”

“ _Stop_.”

Len’s expression shuttered and Barry almost regretted the comment when he spied a glimpse of sheer resentment behind that hard stare. He wasn’t sorry for ceasing the argument, however. He had no intention of lashing out unnecessarily.

Len turned away, his pace picking up. Unease crept in as Barry hurried to move side-by-side with him. The magic clinging to the atmosphere of the forest wasn’t as strong or forceful now, but he could still hear the encouraging whispers in his ears, urging him to speak.

Why this man? What was it that pulled him - and the current of magic coiling in his chest - to this surly stranger, of all people?

They walked on for a couple of minutes in stiff, unsettling silence. The sounds of distant birds and wildlife lurking in the forest were the only noises that permeated. Barry could see the path coming into view up ahead as they trampled through the tall grass. The sun was beginning to lower, not much, but enough to signal that Barry ought to be wary of the hour. He wouldn’t be able to walk much farther if Len’s home was further than he’d implied.

Now that he had time to think about the situation, he didn’t know what he intended to gain from following Len. After all, the two would never see one another after today. What was he doing? Walking a man home? He knew nothing about Len and here he was, chasing a whim.

Maybe Iris was right. Maybe he _was_ the one who gave Joe gray hairs.

Barry kept quiet though, again resolving not to push more than necessary. Whatever it was that had caused Len to shut down was his own to come to terms with. If he wanted to share, Barry would listen.

“I can hear you thinking from here, Scarlet.” He startled when Len finally spoke. “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry.”

Len huffed and the moment was enough for his words to sink in, bringing back Barry’s frown. “Wait, _Scarlet_?”

The man cast him a sly look, scanning him with less rigidity.

Barry stared blankly before he realized what Len's eyes were fixed on. “Oh. _Oh!_ ” He looked down at his tunic and back up at the amusement ghosting the edges of Len’s expression. “It’s still a strange nickname.”

“Better than _kid_?” Len teased.

Barry’s nose wrinkled as they stepped onto the forest path. He was mildly relieved not to have to wade through the grass any longer. “I suppose.” If this was Len’s way of implying he didn’t want to argue anymore, it seemed a fair compromise. Then again, he could simply be weary of the tension.

It was impossible to tell with this man.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on staying for dinner after all, Barry?” Len nodded at the setting sun.

Familiar heat rose to his cheeks once more. “Well, not if you already have company,” he shot back with a smirk. He had no intention of intruding into Len’s house, especially if he had a family waiting for him. Besides, he truly did need to get back to Iris soon.

“Only family,” Len said, confirming his suspicions. “Unfortunately, that means we’ve come to an end with -”

He froze, eyes narrowing. Barry opened his mouth to question him when Len sighed and shut his eyes. If Barry had thought Len was stiff before, that was nothing compared to now.

“My knapsack.”

 _Oh_. They had both forgotten about it amidst their squabbling.

“I can run back,” Barry offered. “It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

“There’s no need -”

“Wait right here,” Barry told him. Len straightened, annoyance flashing across his face, and Barry added, “I’ll be back before you know it. It’s the least I can do.” Hopefully, that would assuage his worries.

He ran off before Len could start another argument, hurrying back off the path in the direction they had come. It wouldn’t take long to retrieve the knapsack and return. He knew the way to the river well enough he could walk it blind. The knapsack hadn’t been further than a few yards from the clearing. It was just a matter of finding the right tree.

If talking only ended with Barry sticking his foot in his mouth, the least he could do was retrieve his belongings. After all, it’d been partially his fault that Len had forgotten it. Perhaps he was more of an “actions speak louder than words” type of man.

The welcoming buzz of the magic emanating from the forest around him seemed to agree. He could’ve sworn that the coils drifting through the air were _pleased_ by this turn of events, purring happily.

A voice that sounded eerily akin to Iris’ snorted in the back of his mind. _How can magic have_ feelings _, Barry?_

_Hey, anything’s possible._

Barry nearly tripped over another tree root in his haste. The way lifted an inch or so higher off the ground, curling almost playfully toward his boot even after he darted around the offending root, was the only response he received.

It took him a few minutes to reach the tree he was looking for; he let out a huff of relief when he spied the knapsack lying on the ground beside the trunk, stopping for a second to catch his breath. He hefted the knapsack onto his shoulder and grimaced at the weight. It had looked a lot less heavy when Len was carrying it earlier.

What was in there? Was it important? The way Len had frozen when he realized the bag was missing gnawed at Barry, though he couldn’t parse why.

Barry shoved aside the uncertainty and started back in the direction he had run. It wasn’t his business. Besides, he couldn’t leave Len standing alone in the middle of the forest, wondering when he’d return. What kind of person would he be if he snooped through a stranger’s belongings?

 _How chivalrous of you,_ he could picture Len saying with a knowing smirk. The idea was enough to bring a smile to Barry’s face as he ran, another pleasant hum echoing his excitement, warming the evening breeze as it skimmed the canopy above with deft, delicate fingers.

 

***

 

One hundred and eighty-two seconds.  

That was how long it had taken for the duchess to scream for help - a foolish move, given that they were in the middle of the forest, but he didn’t blame her for being terrified. He had already gotten far enough away where he knew no one else was coming to her aid. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from chuckling at her cries. By the time she found a soul willing to lend a hand, he would be safe at home with his prize.

That was also the amount of time it took for Len to find himself staring down the blade of none other than Prince Bartholomew of Central Kingdom.

(Lisa had once joked that even with their living circumstances and Lewis, Len had some of the worst luck she’d ever seen. He was starting to wonder if she hadn’t been teasing after all.)

It wasn’t often that Len was caught off-guard. He planned everything down to the last second, ensuring that there were no casualties, no reasons to get caught or to leave behind evidence of his theft. Lewis was sloppy; every job that he had been dragged along on when he was younger had almost always gone wrong thanks to lack of thought or his father’s cockiness. It was through sheer luck that they escaped every time. Lewis laughed it off, shrugged aside Len’s concerns when he was foolish enough to bring them up as if imprisonment were a punchline to a joke he was working towards.

Len couldn’t afford to be sloppy, couldn’t make the mistakes his father dismissed with little care. Because of his curse, in part, if he ever stumbled upon someone who wasn’t part of the plan, but also because of the risk it brought to not only himself but to Lisa. The whole point of the job, of the _game_ , was to lay low and get in and out. The thrill, the adrenaline rush from receiving the prize at the end, was merely a perk.

Stumbling upon the prince in the middle of the forest had caused him to still, staring in astonishment at the lone figure before he had alerted the other to his presence. He’d come across this clearing many times and never had he spotted anyone there before, and certainly not after he had finished robbing a passing carriage.

That _look_ the prince had given him had stopped him dead in his tracks before he could bolt more so than the threat of the sword. It had been the fierce intensity of Barry’s green eyes when he had turned, the tight grip on his blade before he’d seen Len’s face, that stalled his fight-or-flight instincts. Sure, he hadn’t expected the prince to be inept at defending himself, but the anger and readiness with which he had spun left Len curious. He could’ve sworn he caught a whiff of a faint coppery tang in the air, likely a sign of another oncoming rainstorm. The scent vanished as quickly as it had come, however, and then the man had begun _apologizing_ and _smiling_ like nothing had happened.

Len rolled his eyes in the direction the prince had gone, folding his arms over his chest. Of all the people he could’ve run into, of course it had to be the _goddamn_ prince of Central Kingdom. Not only that, but he didn’t seem to realize his company wasn’t wanted or needed.

Len knew the forest like the back of his hand. The last thing he needed was a royal escort.

 _Or a royal trip to the dungeons_ , a small voice that sounded suspiciously like Lisa hissed in his mind.

Len’s grip on his arms tightened. He should have ditched the man the moment he recognized him, should have run, no matter the consequences.  
  
Still, if all the prince - _call me Barry_ , he’d said, so cheerfully, so casually - wanted was to walk him home, perhaps they could say their goodbyes and that would be that. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that there would be a reason for Barry to want to see him again. And he certainly didn’t want to see Barry a second time, especially given the circumstances for their _first_ meeting.  
  
Speaking of Barry, however, where the hell was he?

It should have taken no more than five minutes to grab his knapsack and return. Surely he hadn’t gotten himself lost?

Len wasn’t worrying about it; he wanted to retrieve his knapsack and leave. He could be patient. After all, the man had ordered him to stay put and he couldn’t disobey.

The reminder made him scowl. Even if Barry had no idea what he was doing when speaking such harmless commands, the fact that he couldn’t do _anything_ was enough to incense Len’s irritation. Thankfully, none of the commands had grown from anything more than the desire for him to stand still.

Len tugged at his legs experimentally, grimacing at the lance of pain that pricked his chest as he tried. A simple warning from the curse, nothing more. It was enough of a confirmation that his legs were useless until Barry returned to free him from this stasis.

A quiet rumble reached his ears. Perhaps that thunderstorm was coming after all. His scowl deepened, picturing himself stuck standing in the forest soaked to the bone and unable to move. He glanced up, peering through the canopy of leaves for signs of rain.

The sky was clear of all clouds. Aside from the slowly setting sun, there was no indication that a storm was on its way.

Unease nagged at the back of his mind. He needed to return home soon. Lisa had to be back by now - he was going to have words with that mage if she wasn’t - which meant Lewis would be on his way home too. He couldn’t leave her alone with the man, even with the slight chance that he might be too drunk to “discipline” her.

The rumbling grew louder. Len glanced behind him and it took only a moment to register the source of the noise. A wild drunk was urging his cart down the road, the horses whipped into a frenzy as he cackled, his expression glazed. The cart showed no signs of slowing - and it was barreling straight for Len.

Who couldn’t move an inch from the middle of the road because of the _benevolence_ of a certain prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	4. Some Sweet Simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which sparks fly and two can keep a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should honestly stop trying to keep a regular update schedule at this rate. That being said, I won't have much time to write with work happening all next week (and my birthday on Saturday!) but I'm really trying to get these out when I can. This au is my baby and your lovely comments are incredible motivators.

If he hadn’t been frozen in place, Len would’ve been tempted to march after Barry and give him a piece of his mind. It would’ve taken less time for him to retrieve his knapsack himself if Barry had let him go instead of ordering him to stay put. This was undoubtedly Barry’s fault for _commanding him_ to wait - not that he had known what he was doing.

Sadly, he was unable to do just that; as it was, he was more occupied with struggling to convince his cursed legs to obey _him_ and not the curse. His fists balled at his sides as he stared down the oncoming cart, gritting his teeth as the magic in his blood scorched his insides the more he fought the command.

Len had been trying to fight the curse his whole life. Magic was unforgiving; the curse would gladly let him die as long as he remained obedient. A simple incident with a runaway cart wasn’t going to free him. If he hadn’t been able to find a loophole before now, there was little chance that he would be able to break his curse without preamble.

“Now would be an _excellent_ time to come running, Your Highness,” Len growled under his breath.

He had less than ten seconds - give or take, judging by how quickly the cart was drawing near - before he was trampled. There were no options in sight.

He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t die, not because of some throwaway command, not when he’d be leaving Lisa - _Lisa,_  the panic spiked and his heart lodged itself in his throat, _she wouldn’t know what happened to him_ \- alone with _Lewis_ , of all people.

“Barry!” Len shouted, hating the chord of desperation that colored the man’s name.

It was unlikely the drunken driver was going to slow down or tell him to move so he had to try to reach Barry, he had no choice, and the cart was nearly upon him and he _still couldn’t move his damn legs -_

The odor of ozone and copper sparked in the air. Len barely had time to register the familiarity of the scent before a heavy weight slammed into him from the left, causing Len to topple off the path, grunting in surprise as he fell into the grass. The cart rumbled by, the crazy drunkard still hooting at the top of his lungs, and Len shut his eyes, dropping his head back against the dirt in relief. A tremor ran through his hands as he breathed in deep, his heart pounding furiously from the lingering adrenaline.

He was _alive_. He had been _inches_ from dying and he had been powerless to do anything about it.

If he ever met his fae godmother, he was going to give her several suggestions about where she and her damn magic could go.

“Are you _crazy_?” A voice above him - _Barry’s voice_ \- sent a jolt through him. Len opened his eyes to find Barry staring down at him incredulously, his hands fisted in the fabric of Len’s tunic with a white-knuckled grip. Barry was sitting on his thighs, pinning him against the earth as if he were afraid Len would throw himself back in front of the cart. He wasn’t sure whether he imagined the brief flash of gold behind that wide-eyed gaze.

“You were just standing there and staring in the middle of the road! You could’ve _died_! Why didn’t you move?”

Ah. So it hadn’t been a stroke of luck that he had been knocked onto his ass instead of run over.

Barry had _saved_ _him_.

Len forced himself to relax his hands, willing the shaking to stop. Without the pain from the magic seizing his chest, he felt light-headed, dizzy from the shock of being alive.

He could have _died._

“I was going to.” The steadiness of his voice was almost impressive.

“When? After you’d already been crushed?” Barry scoffed. Stray brown hairs fell over his forehead as he shook his head in disbelief.

“I already told you, I don’t need your chivalry.” Len tapped his index finger against Barry’s leg. It was easier to focus on the weight of the man’s rather than the receding adrenaline. “Not that I’m complaining about your fascination with knocking me to the ground. If this is what you wanted, all you had to do was ask, Barry.” He raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Barry’s eyes darted to Len’s hand and that lovely red bloomed over his cheeks in an instant. He shot backward, scrambling to his feet in a haste. Len accepted the hand he offered to help him to his feet only because he didn’t trust his own legs to hold his weight at the moment. He withdrew his grasp once he was standing to smooth out the area where Barry had bunched up the fabric of his tunic with his fingers.

“W - Well, I’ll keep that in mind, uh, next time you’re about to be trampled to death,” Barry said, the teasing tone he aimed for ruined by his flustered stammering.

“Next time? What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

Barry removed a leather strap from his shoulder and Len realized the man had been wearing the knapsack the whole time. He must have tackled Len with it slung across his body. He held out the knapsack for Len to accept and frowned, casting a glance over his shoulder toward the clearing they had come from.

“Oh! Uh, j - just slipped out.” Len raised an eyebrow and Barry bit his lip. “I ought to be getting back. It’ll be dark soon.”

It wasn’t much of an answer but he let it slide. Barry wasn’t wrong; Len still needed to reach the house before Lewis returned and he could hardly do so with the prince dogging at his heels like an eager puppy.

The thought of walking through the front door with Barry in tow, his father’s jaw dropping to the floor in astonishment, almost wrought a laugh out of him.

“Seems that way.” He slung his knapsack over his shoulder, pausing to adjust the strap. He didn’t miss the way Barry watched his movements, eyes flitting up quickly once he registered what he was doing. “You traveling home on foot?”

“No, I have a horse. I’ll be riding back.”

There hadn’t been a horse anywhere near the clearing when he had stumbled upon Barry earlier. Had he left it elsewhere? Len scanned his face but Barry’s earnest gaze nixed that train of thought. He didn’t _appear_ to be lying.

“Right.”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Your home isn’t much farther, is it?”

“Worried about me?” Len teased.

“Well, I wouldn’t be much of a prince of I left you stranded miles from home in the middle of the forest.”

His eyes narrowed. “I meant what I said about chivalry. I’m no damsel in distress.”

“I know,” Barry said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I know that. I’m just...making sure.” He ducked his head but it did no good to hide the spreading color of his cheeks. “That you get home safe. I mean, there are bandits in these parts.”

 _You have no idea, kid._ The irony was as charming as the man’s concern. His lips curled into a slow smirk.

“I’ll be careful, Scarlet,” he drawled. “I’m a big boy.”

Barry dropped his hands, sending him a look of pure exasperation. “I’m serious, Len.”

“So am I.”

Barry clenched his jaw. He opened his mouth, likely to start yet another argument, before he thought better of it and shut it, shaking his head. Len wondered what it would take, what buttons he would have to push, to bring back that fiery glare he had first aimed at him.

“I have to go.” He took a step back and paused as if he were waiting for Len to say something in return.

“Wouldn’t want to keep the regent waiting.”

Barry’s lips twitched. “ _Goodbye_ , Len.”

He turned and hurried off, heading on his way back - for a second time - to the clearing where he had been standing. Len watched his retreating form, eyeing the worn cloak as it began to blend in with the treeline and unruly undergrowth. Despite the vibrance of his red tunic, he managed to camouflage himself well against the towering trees. If Barry was telling the truth about having visited Amplewick before, it made sense that he would know how to blend in to avoid being stopped by anyone passing through.

“Bye, Barry,” Len murmured, mostly to himself. The prince was nearly gone from his line of sight; there was no use in calling out to him, even if he wanted to.

He had lingered long enough. Lisa was bound to be back by now. He had to check on her and ensure that Lewis hadn’t returned early.

Len turned on his heel and moved swiftly down the road he had almost died on minutes before. It would take no more than five, maybe ten minutes to reach home.

Barry had no need to worry about him reaching his front door safely - hardly anyone rode past their house and you had to know where to look to find the correct path that led there in the first place. The rain had a tendency of washing away the dirt and mud, obscuring the shabby path, worn down from time and wild vegetation. Len didn’t mind having to fight through the greenery to reach where the path branched off towards the cottage. Lisa had offered a couple times to use her magic to remove the weeds and roots but Len would take a half-hidden road any day over travelers stumbling upon their home. Anything that kept their attention away from the abnormalcy that went on behind closed doors was more than welcome.

By the time he spotted his destination, the tension and his near-death experience with the cart and the prince were already beginning to fade from the forefront of his mind. It was a strange happenstance, of course, but it was a one-time occurrence. Len wasn’t foolish enough to imagine the prince would be back. The coronation was in a month; Barry would be busy getting his affairs in order for when he took the throne.

Lisa would have a good laugh over the incident, though. Despite her loathing toward the discriminating laws against fae, she would have lit up at getting to meet the prince of Central Kingdom. She’d have tossed her hair, likely pouted at Barry’s stuttered apologies while fighting back a smile at how easy it was to break past his defenses.

Even with that glimmer of danger and fury that lurked around his edges, Barry would have devoured her theatrics and jumped on the chance to walk her home. He was an open book, the type who wore his heart on his sleeve with those innocent doe eyes and that blinding grin. Hell, he would’ve been _more_ eager to ensure she returned home safely than he had been with Len.

He pictured Barry stumbling over himself like Ramon, cheeks flaming as Lisa giggled at his attempts at portraying the brave, valiant prince everyone expected. Lisa was good at playing the part of the demure damsel; she would have had him eating from the palm of her hand in no time.

Len snorted, brought back to the present by the pride weaseling its way into his heart at the thought of Lisa charming Barry. Maybe, once Lewis had passed out and finished rounding up the gold he’d asked for, he’d tease her with a mention of what had happened while she was out _chatting_ with Ramon (which he fully intended to grill her about).

He grasped the door handle and frowned at how easily the door drew forward. Lisa always locked the door after her.

Ice spread harsh and thick over his chest, fingers numb as he threw open the door and stepped inside, allowing it to shut behind him as he looked around for signs of his sister. If someone had broken in or she was in trouble -

“Ah, Leo.”

Len’s steps faltered, bringing him to a halt feet from the kitchen. He turned his head, biting back the snarl that rose.

Lewis stood in the kitchen, one hand splayed amongst the gold Len had left lying out on the table - _wrong, foolish, thoughtless_ \- with the other spread in what was meant to be an inviting gesture. As if he were arriving late to a ball and his father had been expecting him for hours.

His sister had herself pressed against the wall farthest from Lewis, her breaths coming in shallow. A broken tankard lay at her feet - cracked from its impact against the wall, if the black mark three inches from Lisa’s head was any indication of where it had been aimed. Her hands trembled at her sides as she met Len’s eyes.

The grin on his father’s face promised nothing but pain.

“I see you took a detour on your way home.” Lewis nodded at the knapsack, tapping his fingers on the coin purse closest to him. The initial soft clink at his touch made Lisa flinch before she could control herself. Len was just grateful she hadn’t lost control of her magic in his absence.

“Guards increased the security around the kingdom’s borders. Had to take a few backroads.”

“Which is why you left all this gold -” another tap, another barely hidden flinch from Lisa whose eyes were pleading with him now “- with your sister? _Alone_?”

Len didn’t dare glance at Lisa head-on. He couldn’t give away any tells, couldn’t let his father pounce on his sister’s fright.

“Heard of a duchess passing through on her way to Keystone,” he said coolly. “Figured it would be a quick job, so I caught up to the carriage in the woods. I wasn’t expecting to be gone long.”

If Lewis knew Lisa had been out of the house, taking walks with strangers, with _mages_ , he would have done worse than aim for her head. Leaving her alone with the gold was a slap on the wrist compared to what he ought to have walked in on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lisa tuck her hands behind her back to hide the shudder running through her.

“No, I don’t imagine so.” Lewis’ grin tightened at the corners.

Neither Len nor Lisa dared move a muscle.

Lewis stalked forward, leaving the coin purses lying on the table in plain sight. He moved slow, as if he had all the time in the world, a predator prowling after his terrified prey with ease.

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

Len said nothing, watched Lewis’ leisurely approach with narrowed eyes. He couldn’t risk snark, no matter how badly he wanted to tear his father apart with visceral words, to declare that he was more than capable of thinking without listening to his commands every time he returned, that he was more than capable of fighting back.

They both knew he wouldn’t disobey - not with the curse resting in his veins, tingling with anticipation. Not with Lisa standing in the same room.

Lewis stopped a less than a foot in front of him, his breath heavy with the scent of beer. He wasn’t completely drunk - the alertness that lingered behind those sharp eyes couldn’t be faked - but the slight sway in his still form showed he’d been drinking before he came home.

He stared back at Len for a long moment. Oftentimes Len had wondered as a child whether he could convince Lewis to stop before the beatings began, hoping to appeal to the part of his father that, deep down, had to be good. After all, he’d once been happy, hadn’t he? He’d once loved him and his mother, likely still did. Surely there was a way to keep him happy outside of thieving, to make him see that he didn’t need to hurt them.

Len had stopped wondering when Lewis started going after Lisa, and then using her to get to him like this was a simple game of chess and she was a pawn he could easily throw away a move with.

Something about the controlled anger twitching in his fingers seemed to satisfy the old man. Lewis’ expression relaxed, the tension in his posture fading little by little.

“Lisa.” The faux politeness in Lewis’ voice caused her head to snap around to face him. “Why don’t you head upstairs? It’ll be dinner soon. You can wait up there.”

Len didn’t meet her eyes, didn’t do more than watch from the corner of his eye as she swallowed hard, her cheeks stark white. _Go upstairs_ , he pleaded silently. _Go upstairs and wait until it’s over._

The silence stretched on for a few uncertain seconds more, taut as a bowstring. Len held his breath.

The sound of Lisa’s receding footsteps shouldn’t have filled him with a wave of relief. The two of them waited until the bedroom door had opened and shut, listening until she was safe and sound upstairs - or, as safe as anyone could be under this roof.

“Now,” Lewis said, his grin malicious, “where was I?” He paused, pretending to think before he stepped closer, his breath acrid on Len’s face. He couldn’t stop the small scrunching of his nose as it stung from the pungency of the smell. “Ah, right. Of course.”

He threw the punch before Len could duck, catching him square across the jaw, and it took every fiber of his being not to swing back.

 

***

 

Iris all but slammed the door to his room behind her. The tailor startled, nearly swallowing a pin sticking out of his mouth as she strode straight for them. Barry was just grateful that the man didn’t stick _him_ instead.

“I’m in the middle of a fitting, Iris,” he said with a helpless gesture toward the tailor and the red fabric he was practically drowning in. His sleeves were several inches longer than where his fingertips began, causing him to look more like a flailing monkey rather than a prince. Wells claimed it was easier to take things in if they were a size or so larger, but Barry had never agreed with the method. Mostly because he wound up stiff and uncomfortable or pricked with pins every time he so much as fidgeted wrong.

“Please, hold still, Your Highness,” the tailor hissed. They’d been at this for close to an hour now, so he didn’t blame him for being irritated. “I’m almost done.” Barry winced and whispered an apology.

“Well, in that case,” Iris said, her eyes narrowing, “I suppose you won’t mind if I wait.” She stopped by the end of his bed to watch the two of them near the full-length mirror on the opposite side of the room. She had changed since their ride back out of her armor; she was off-duty for the night, adorned in a muted hazel dress that hugged her figure nicely. Her hair was repinned after the wind and hard riding from that late afternoon had ripped several curls free, not a strand out of place now as she glared openly at Barry. She’d kept her sword hanging off of her belt over the dress, thankfully sheathed for the moment.

The heat of Iris’ gaze didn’t help cease his fiddling. He knew better than to ask her to leave, it would only incense her more, so he nodded stiffly.

Barry tried to remain as still as possible as the tailor went back to pinning the hem of his trousers. He had no intention of getting stabbed in the ankle, even with Iris’ eyes boring into his skull mere feet away.

He knew what she was waiting for. He had apologized profusely after he’d found her searching for him in the forest, listening to her scold him (again) about how dangerous it was for him to run off like that after _promising_ her that he wouldn’t. The rest of the ride back had been in stony silence, which was almost worse than her lecture.

Admittedly, Iris had every right to be angry and he knew he shouldn’t have left the clearing in the first place - or strayed so far for so long in the very least. No stranger was worth worrying his best friend in a panic. Things could have gone much worse that afternoon if he hadn’t run into someone like Len.

Barry tamped down on a small smile. He likely shouldn’t have been so intrigued by a man he’d only met once (and would never meet again) but the memory of the afternoon was...nice. He hadn’t had much fun as of late outside of sneaking out with Iris or talking with the castle physician when he had time. Not that arguing with a stranger and saving him from being run over was _fun_ , necessarily, but still. He wondered if Len had made it home safely after all, if he had received a warm greeting from his family when he stepped through the door. Would he tell them about his encounter in the woods? Would he tell them about the incident with the cart?

Something in his chest squeezed as he pictured the latter. Perhaps it was better if they never knew.

Nevertheless, it had been a long time since someone had treated him as something other than a prince, someone who hadn’t grown up with him or watched over him for decades and knew him inside and out.

Maybe he was romanticizing what had happened, trying to find something bright and new in an otherwise dull day. Still, Barry liked the thought of running across the man again.

By the time the tailor finished hemming the bottom of his trousers, he seemed just as eager to escape the room as Barry was. Promising to return later the next day to finish the job on his sleeves, he packed up his kit and the fabric (once Barry untangled himself from it without getting stabbed) and scurried out of the room, shooting Barry a curious look before he shut the door. He closed it far more gently than Iris had. The soft sound didn’t ease the nerves fluttering in his stomach.

The moment he was gone, Iris sighed. “I didn’t tell my father or Wells yet.” Barry let out his own sigh of relief and she quickly fixed him with another glare, but he didn’t mind nearly as much. Barry would be stuck behind castle walls until long after he was crowned king if either man knew he had ditched Iris. “And you’re lucky I didn’t.”

“I really am sorry,” Barry pleaded. “I swear, I didn’t intend to leave the clearing at all.”

“But you did,” Iris pointed out. “We already _had_ this conversation - and that was _before_ I told you to wait for me! Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I know -”

“Remember that woman we heard? She was _robbed_ not two minutes before I got there. That bandit could’ve found you too! He was armed and threatening her, Barry! I thought you would be stuck fending him off on your own or worse, you could’ve - !”

Barry pulled her into a hug, ignoring the way he could feel her frowning against his shoulder. He nestled his chin into the crook of her neck and waited for her to calm down. He kept his hold loose so she wouldn’t feel pinned against him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t think about how terrified you must’ve been. I should’ve kept my promise.”

Iris didn’t say anything, which was fine. She needed to clear her head, to work through the lingering anxiety and frustration without him making excuses. Barry doubted that _magic made me do it_ was what she’d want to hear.

It took a few minutes before she wrapped her arms around his back in return. The inarticulate grumble of exasperation she made near his ear caused Barry snort before he could stifle it.

“Yes, you sound so sincere when you’re laughing.”

“I _am_ sorry,” he assured her.

“Oh, sure.”

“ _I_ _ris._ ”

He didn’t have to look at her to feel the way her frown deepened. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I like you too,” he teased.

Iris pulled away from the embrace to jab a finger at his chest. “Then _stop_ scaring me like that. I’m going to be an old woman by the time you’re king. You’ll have to carry me everywhere so I don’t hobble over your royal toes.”

“That timepiece of Joe’s won’t help much, then. We’ll never make it if you move at a snail’s pace.”

She swatted his arm, which elicited a laugh out of him as he stepped back too late to dodge her offending hand. The ghost of a smile on her lips ruined the solemn air she was aiming for.

“I’m serious, Barr.”

“So am I. Joe would have a fit if we were _both_ late.”

Iris shook her head with ill-disguised fondness. The teasing appeared to ease her worrying, which was enough for Barry. He made a private vow to talk to the kitchen staff about making her favorite tarts in the near future; she deserved a proper apology after everything he put her through.

“ _Anyway_ , are you going to tell me what happened?”

Barry tilted his head in confusion. “Hmm?”

“Where you went this afternoon?” Iris raised an eyebrow. “You were out of breath when I found you, clearly you went _somewhere._.”

“Not too far,” Barry said, his mind inching back towards the memory of Len. It hadn’t taken him long to jog back, the adrenaline and spark of magic coursing through his veins from Len’s near-miss with the cart. The other hadn’t noticed anything unusual about how quickly his rescue had come, which was a small comfort. It was bad enough that Len had recognized him so easily without his hood. If he had known Barry was using magic as well…

He wasn’t certain whether Len held the same prejudices as some of his kinsmen, but the very thought ached almost as bad as a bee’s sting.

“Well, where _did_ you go?” Iris asked, bringing him back to the present. She flashed him a sly smile. “Don’t tell me you ran into that bandit after all?”

Barry almost laughed but something about her words nagged at him. He hadn’t seen any bandits before Iris had returned. They weren’t far from the path, so the woman’s carriage had to have been close enough for the thief to escape into the forest. Still, they couldn’t have gotten far.

He ought to have heard _something_ or seen even the barest glimpse of the thief. Unless they had run in the opposite direction toward the village instead, but that wouldn’t explain Iris’ concern about Barry’s well-being. The woman must have pointed her in the direction the thief had bolted.

Barry’s stomach dropped.

Len had been carrying an awfully heavy knapsack for someone on his way home to his family.

It was just speculation, just a passing thought, he tried to assure himself. After all, why would a thief be so relaxed about stumbling upon a prince?

 _He would if he didn’t fear being caught_ , a voice piped up in the back of his mind.

If Len was the thief, it was no wonder he hadn’t wanted Barry to follow him “home”. It certainly explained the look on his face when he realized his knapsack was missing, the sword he had been carrying as well - the sword he’d _threatened a woman with minutes before finding Barry_ , and oh, his chest tightened at that mental image. He remembered the calculating stare as he’d been shoved against the tree, the way he’d been studying Barry, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Barry ran a hand over the back of his neck, his thoughts racing. If the old magic that still wafted through the clearing had wanted him to arrest Len, then he had done a truly pitiful job.

He didn’t know the truth of the matter. For all he knew, he could be making assumptions about Len’s character that were entirely false. Perhaps he wasn’t a thief.

Iris said his name but he hardly registered the sound, plastering a smile on his face. She didn’t need to know about his suspicions yet. Besides, it wasn’t as if he could direct her to where Len lived - for all he knew, the man could’ve been lying about living in the woods (and he likely had been, which didn’t help the unease burning in his gut).

One thing was certain: he needed answers. Whether Len would be willing to give them was another matter in itself.

 

***

 

“I should have stayed.”

Len grimaced as the wet cloth brushed a bruise on his cheek. With Lisa gripping his chin to keep him from retreating, he couldn’t do much more than make faces at her efforts to soothe his pain. She had refused to let him sleep off his injuries and sat him down herself on the bed.

There wasn’t any fear of Lewis checking in tonight. After giving Len his “lesson”, he’d retreated to the kitchen to finish drinking and laughing about his new gold to sell. It looked like he would be sleeping downstairs on the kitchen table again.

“He would’ve gone after you if you had,” Len reminded Lisa, “and you did nothing wrong. It was my fault.”

She huffed. “I still should’ve done something. I got home before he did, I could’ve cleaned up the table before he noticed.”

“What’s done is done.” He hissed as Lisa pressed the cloth harder against the bruise. They had had this conversation many times before, and this wouldn’t be the last iteration of it. “Did he hurt you before I walked in?”

“He just yelled.” Lisa withdrew the rag for a moment, her brow furrowing. “I thought it was you coming back, so I didn’t expect him.”

Neither of them had. At least he had arrived before Lewis had taken his anger out on her first.

“Why _were_ you late, Lenny?”

Len paused. “Lost track of the time.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and dropped her hand. “You’re the most punctual person I know, Lenny. You’re always counting down to the last second.”

He leaned back against the headboard. She wasn’t wrong. Len took pride in planning for inevitabilities, having backup plans ready at a moment’s notice stored away in his mind in case the worst came to pass. He had to be better than Lewis; he couldn’t afford to plow through each job without running through all his options.

Barry had thrown all those plans out the window the moment he’d drawn his sword on him that afternoon.

“Got sidetracked. The job with the duchess was...more complicated than I anticipated.”

He entertained the thought of telling her about Barry and how he’d tried to get rid of his unexpected shadow on his retreat home for a brief second. She would get a kick out of hearing about the incident, even if it were only to tease him.

The memory of Lewis’ malicious grin dangled at the back of his mind, gleaming like a double-edged axe in warning.

Len wasn’t going to see the prince again, though, so there wasn’t much use in relaying the story to Lisa now. It hardly mattered in the long run. He had more important things to be thinking about than wayward princes.

Besides, it had been his fault that Lewis had a reason to go after Lisa in the first place. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get caught up in a conversation at all with Barry. It wouldn’t happen again.

Taking the opportunity to change the subject, Len cocked his head. “I take it Ramon was a perfect gentleman?”

Lisa smirked. She didn’t buy his previous answer for a second, she knew him too well for that, but she didn’t push this time. Judging by the way she perked up at the mention of the mage, she didn’t mind glossing over the details of his own afternoon. “All that and more. Even walked me home. You never know what’s in these woods, after all.”

Len’s eyes narrowed. “You led him here?”

“Relax, Lenny.” The command wasn’t entirely unwelcome, so he didn’t attempt to fight the thrum of magic. “He’s a real sweetheart. I wouldn’t have let him walk me back if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“Just because he seems nice doesn’t mean he can be trusted,” Len warned.

Lisa crossed her arms over her chest. “No, but he isn’t a bad guy. He’s not like most of the people in the village.” She hesitated. The glimmer of fondness in her eyes was something he’d only seen directed toward himself. “He’s the first person I’ve met who actually enjoys talking about magic.”

“You _told_ him -”

“Of course not!” Lisa shushed him, glancing at the bedroom door. “I’m not stupid! I didn’t breathe a word about it, just that I was interested in magic.”

Len’s jaw clenched. “That doesn’t mean he can’t figure it out.”

“He _won’t_.”

“Lisa -”

“He can control it too,” Lisa reminded him. “He wouldn’t tell even if he did know.”

“You don’t know that!”

She scowled, her expression darkening. “No, I don’t. But I trust him on this. And _you_ -” she sat beside him, the mattress jumping under her weight “- need to trust _me_.”

“It’s you I trust, not him.”

“I’m going to see him again, Lenny.”

His chest seized. “What if _he_ finds out?” He gestured to the door.

“He won’t. All he does is drink these days, anyway. I was home today before he got back, he didn’t notice any difference! Besides, you think this is the first time I’ve snuck out under his nose?”

That train of thought was equally amusing and nerve-wracking to ponder. Len forced himself to focus on the present, sitting straighter on the bed.

“This isn’t a game, Lise. This is going to end badly.”

“You don’t know that,” she parroted back.

“Neither do you.”

Her chin jutted forward in defiance. “And if he makes me happy?”

Damn her stubbornness. She _knew_ he couldn’t deny her that. Len ran a hand over his face, which he immediately regretted as his fingers grazed the reddened, slightly damp, skin.

Lisa barely had any friends in the village. Outside of the few she’d made in school when she was younger - and occasionally spoke to nowadays - Lewis rarely allowed her out of the cottage. She hadn’t had time to have fun with anyone besides Len in - well, she’d _never_ had time for fun with anyone besides Len.

That didn’t mean he trusted Ramon like she did. Lisa hanging around a mage, even one who meant her no harm, was dangerous. He wasn’t lying when he said that things would end badly.

Still, he could see the fierce hopefulness in her eyes, how she was truly trying to be optimistic about this turn of events. Ramon gave her a chance to be able to talk about her magic with someone other than Len, who hardly made an attempt to disguise his bitter feelings toward magic itself, and a chance at freedom from Lewis’ iron fist of control.

He already regretted this.

“I don’t approve,” Len said carefully. “But I will cover for you if need be.”

Lisa’s face brightened in an instant, her scowl melting away. He suspected she would’ve gone the route of crocodile tears if she wasn’t too old to try that tactic these days. “I mean it, Lenny. Things are going to be just fine.”

Sometimes he wished he could still feel that optimism his sister radiated.

Lisa inched closer to continue dabbing at his bruises when he said nothing, moving his hand away from his face. Len was tempted to pull her hand close to his chest, to hold her tight and shield her from the rest of the world like he had when she was merely an infant.

Lisa was her own person. He should’ve expected that she would be yearning to break free little by little from their father’s watchful gaze.

He clenched his jaw tighter. If Lisa noticed, she said nothing of it, a faint smile lingering on her lips. She deserved better than to be trapped inside this house, stuck with abilities she still didn’t understand and a brother who could do nothing to help her.

And if Cisco Ramon was the key to making her happy, even if it lasted a short period of time…

Len shut his eyes. The least he could do was grant her that small happiness. It wasn’t as if he’d find any of it for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	5. Somebody to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is shameless flirting and no one swoons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Long time no see?
> 
> After many vacations and a great deal of other writing responsibilities (such as CWA Week and the Coldflash Exchange that'll be up soon), I'm finally diving headfirst back into this fic! I wrote the dialogue for a certain bit of this chapter way back when I was first planning out this au, and I'm so proud of it (and these chapter summaries, which have some subtle puns Len would love). I'm not giving up on this au yet, I promise.

It was another three days before Lewis gave him his next job. He didn’t usually order Len out of the house so quickly, but in light of recent circumstances, it had to be part of his punishment. The cruel smile on his father’s face as he traced over the still-prominent bruises with his eyes drove that point home. It made his blood to boil to have to obey, to nod curtly and bite his tongue when Lewis ordered him back upstairs to pack.

The job was in the next town over, close enough that Len was thankful not to be returning to Star Kingdom or somewhere further. He left early in the morning after murmuring a goodbye to Lisa, who was resigned but understood that he had no choice in the matter, before he set off. He took the main road, since it was the quickest way into town, and arrived just in time to see the morning crowds at the market begin to converge. Len held off on making his way through the market, though, and stopped at the nearest inn to grab breakfast while he took in his surroundings.

The nobleman Lewis had mentioned was visiting from Keystone (what was with these nobles taking visits in and out of Keystone lately, you’d think they _wanted_ to be robbed) and wanted to visit his nephew who lived close to town. The pair were visiting the market, if his father’s information was correct, in less than an hour. Lewis’ eyes had lit up when he described the gold the nobleman had to be carrying, murmuring something about coming into a recent inheritance.

In other words, the man wasn’t going to be keeping said inheritance for long.

Len didn’t particularly appreciate being forced out of bed early in the morning by his curse to swipe some highborn’s coin purse. If Lewis wanted the damn purse, he could do his dirty work himself. Len’s mood was sour at best, and he forced himself to finish his impromptu breakfast despite his inner grumbling. He hadn’t had time to grab anything on his way out the door thanks to Lewis’ orders of leaving “bright and early”.

Still, he left the owner of the inn a few gold coins for their troubles, especially when he saw the influx heading inside for their own meals. He had a sense that the exhausted look in the man’s eyes as he hurried to greet them wasn’t going to improve for the next hour or so.

It took twenty minutes for the nobleman, donning a cream-colored tunic and an arrogant air that stuck out like a sore thumb in the town market, to make an appearance, his nephew more hesitant as he trailed in his uncle’s footsteps. Len strolled after them at a safe distance, keeping watch on the pair out of the corner of his eyes as he went. Neither appeared to be paying much attention to their surroundings, making them easy targets.

He almost felt pity for the nephew, his embarrassment evident with the way his ginger hair fell over his eyes and his shoulders tensed. Len caught brief snippets of the one-sided conversation his uncle was hosting - which didn’t appear to be ending anytime soon since the man had never been silenced in his life apparently - and grimaced when the word “marriage” kept popping up.

Ah, poor soul. He wasn’t doing much to stand up for himself in the matter in the first place, though.

If he had to listen to the nobleman blabber on about the subject for any longer, Len would be tempted to drive his own sword through his chest. It didn’t help that the magic in his veins had started burning, sensing the task at hand and all-too-eager to obey Lewis’ orders. That thought sobered Len and he pushed against the feeling, shoving down the pressure so he could work at his own pace despite the throbbing.

He picked up the pace, keeping his target at his right to hide his actions as he brushed the man’s side with more roughness than necessary. As the man (finally) closed his mouth long enough to turn towards him, Len snatched the hefty coin purse from his coat and made sure to stammer an apology with wide eyes.

The nobleman huffed and turned away, leaving his nephew to scurry after his uncle as he began rambling on an entirely different subject. He surely wasn’t going to miss the newly-stolen gold.

Len rolled his eyes and turned the corner rather than following the two through the market as he had been. The curse’s ache vanished, satisfied by his obedience for the moment. The latter put a damper on the brief lift in his spirits, but he was content to return home. Lewis wouldn’t be expecting him to be gone long and Lisa would be worrying after him since he was always ordered not to share details of his jobs beforehand, so it was likely time to head back.

If Lewis had been anticipating the venture to be more of a petty punishment, he ought to have chosen a difficult target.

 _Mere child’s play_ , Len thought with a small smirk.

No sooner had the thought entered his head when Len’s upper arm was seized, the same one that had nabbed the coin purse, and he was yanked around the back of the closest shop, some family business or other investing in shoemaking. There was hardly a moment to think as he was pushed against the wall: he shoved his prize into his coat pocket, adrenaline kicking in as he reached for his sword hilt with his free hand.

He hadn’t seen any guards around town, hadn’t imagined there would be any. Clearly, he had overlooked -

Barry’s frowning face stared back at Len as he focused on his assailant, those startling green eyes uncertain and searching.

What?

Len loosened his grip on the hilt of his weapon, but he didn’t drop his hand. Of all the people he’d been expecting to corner him on a job, _Barry_ was not one of them.

What the hell was he doing _here_?

He wore the same cloak as he had their first encounter, the hood drawn over his face - though it was now slipping onto the crown of his head instead. Len noted, somewhat disappointedly, that he wore a white tunic this time rather than that memorable shade of red.

“I must say, Your Highness, this wasn’t what I had in mind when you said ‘next time’.” He kept his tone even, as if Barry needed proof he was unperturbed by these strange circumstances. Really, what were the _odds_? “There a reason you enjoy threatening me and knocking me over?”

Barry’s frown deepened. “I _am_ sorry about that.”

“Hmm, I can see.” Len flicked his gaze down to Barry’s hands pointedly. “As much as I appreciate the eager greeting, is there a reason we’re hiding? Or did the regent give you permission this time to run off and manhandle your subjects?”

“I see you haven’t changed a bit,” Barry grumbled. His irritation vanished the longer he studied Len’s face, however, his grip loosening. “Those look like bruises, though. Are you hurt?”

“Fine. It’s only been a matter of days, I _can_ take care of myself.”

“I mean it. Where did you get them from?”

Len fought the urge to slap Barry’s hands away as he started to lift one, presumably to touch his face, which was _not_ happening. “Is there a _point_ to this interrogation, Barry?”

“I just needed to talk to you about something.”

“Sadly, I’m not interested. Got places to be. I’m a busy man. Surely you understand.”

Barry shook his head, his clenched fists in Len’s tunic unfurling slow as molasses. He swore there was a flicker of something close to frustration across Barry’s face. “Yeah, I bet. I’m serious, Len.”

“Didn’t know the prince made time for chit-chat. Do you do this with all your subjects or am I special?” Len ribbed.

“Well, that was before I knew I was talking to a thief.”

Oh.

Truthfully, Len wasn’t as surprised as he ought to have been. He’d known there was little chance the prince wouldn’t find out who he was - or, rather, _what_ he was - so Barry’s exasperation made sense.

It still brought up the question of _why_ the other was here in town cornering Len. How had Barry even found him?

“So, this isn’t a social call, I take it. Or are we going to go back to threatening?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.” Len couldn’t help the way he stiffened involuntarily at the command.

“Threatening it is, then.”

Barry sighed. “You’re not even going to attempt to deny it?” There was a twinge of something unreadable behind his gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he would assume that Barry was almost _hurt_ by Len’s nonchalance.

Len raised an eyebrow. “Would you be happier if I did?”

“Not really.” Barry released his grip on Len’s tunic fully and dropped his hands to his sides, though he didn’t step away. He seemed more inclined to talking about the situation rather than arresting Len, which was...interesting.

And slightly confusing.

“Just out of curiosity, how did you figure it out? Or _when_ , should I say?”

Barry grimaced and averted his eyes. “I heard about the robbery in the woods later that day. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

He’d _heard_ about it? That was troubling and begged the question as to who was going around talking about bandits around the castle. His jobs should hardly bear any concern to royalty. Wells was more preoccupied with magical beings and creatures than common thieves.

“Don’t feel too bad, Barry,” Len drawled, unable to help the twitch of his lips. Part of him, oddly, had missed this - the back-and-forth jibes, the exasperation that radiated off Barry’s tense posture. “I put the gold to good use.” Or, rather, Lewis had.

“Is this just a game to you?”

“If you’re here to preach about my life choices, I’m afraid I’m going to have to skip the lecture. As I said, I’ve got places to be.”

“I saw you take that man’s money.”

He paused. “Ah.” That explained Barry’s earlier aggression.

Barry looked thoroughly unimpressed by the thoughtful response. “Yes, ‘ah’.”

Len would have been pleased by the snark if he hadn’t been running through his options. He didn’t want to have to fight Barry to escape - which would likely draw attention anyway if he was forced to run, and Barry was armed as well - but given how close the man was standing, that was the most probable choice. He didn’t doubt that Barry would be reluctant to let him escape this time. Somehow that was just as infuriating as the arrogance of the nobleman whose coin purse he’d swiped.

Why was it that Barry liked to throw off all his plans?

“If you’re planning on arresting me, I would’ve thought you’d bring some guards at the very least. Unless you’re planning on taking me in yourself.”

“The guards are in the market already,” Barry said, which didn’t ease Len’s instinct to bolt. “I told them I was going to look at one of the shops before I gave them the slip. They’ll be here soon once they realize I’m gone, though.”

“Don’t tell me you’re here for another rally?” Len teased, tilting his head.

Barry’s jaw clenched. “I happened to be in town, actually. It was a coincidence that I recognized you here.”

The excuse was laughable, at best. Considering how tightly wound Wells kept the prince on a leash, a simple stroll in a neighboring town couldn’t be the real reason.

Then again, this was the same prince who had claimed he was in Amplewick’s forest for a _walk._

The disbelief must have shone on Len’s face because Barry folded his arms over his chest, growing defensive. “It’s the truth.”

“Then how about you tell me the truth about _this_ , Barry,” Len said, stepping forward, closing the space between them so there was little more than a couple scant inches of separation. “Why are you stalling? If you’re so keen on arresting me, do it. Drag me out there and turn me over to your little bodyguards. That’s what you’re here for.”

“Is that what you want?”

Something jagged dislodged itself in his chest. “What?”

“Is that what you want me to do?” Barry repeated. “Arrest you?”

Of course not. What kind of question was that? “What’s stopping you?” Len sneered.

Barry stared at him for a long minute. Len was no fool, he knew how this was going to go if he didn’t run - which he really ought to be doing if Barry was planning on simply stalling until help arrived.

There was no happy ending in this for Len. He had no say in the matter, and it wasn’t as if he was going to be able to prove his innocence. Barry was a witness to the theft and he hadn’t had time to dispose of the stolen coin purse before being caught. Not to mention the fact that he had practically handed Barry a confession about what he had been up to last time.

If Lewis could see him now, he would have doubled over cackling.

“I can’t let you steal whatever you want, whenever you want,” Barry said slowly, not quite unlike he was speaking to a child. Len let out a bitter chuckle.

“No, that would go against your moral code, wouldn’t it? Save it, Barry, I’m not stupid.”

“You could return the money.” The edges of Barry’s mouth quirked up despite the hesitant tone as if he truly believed Len could do such a thing. “Surely you don’t need gold this soon. You robbed a carriage the other day.”

He didn’t. Neither did Lewis, for that matter. The itch of the curse began to reappear the longer he stayed put, though. Lewis had ordered him to “return home once you’ve got the gold”.

Even if he did what Barry wanted, he couldn’t disobey Lewis. He had far more important things to be worrying about.

“Don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Len -”

He cut Barry off before he could launch into a lecture on morality. “I told you to can it with the chivalry. I’m not your pet project.”

Barry frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to – ”

Footsteps and raised voices drew closer to the shop the pair were lurking near, and Barry’s head snapped in their direction as he stepped back. He appeared to recognize the voices, which didn’t bode well for Len’s sake.

Len inched back around the shop, keeping an eye on Barry’s conflicted expression. He didn’t need to stick around to hear the man stall him with frivolous questions any longer.

By the time Barry turned, realizing he had moved, Len was already slipping around the corner, weaving back into the crowds of the market, taking the main route to blend in. A couple of guards hurried past him, heading in the direction he had come. Just in time, so it seemed.

He doubted it was truly coincidence that brought them both together again. After all, Barry had rarely been seen outside the castle, even if he had claimed to have visited Amplewick before, and going through all this trouble to put a thief behind bars was unnecessary. Perhaps he thought it was some test of kingship, to prove himself worthy of the throne by going after Len.

Regardless of his reasoning, Len wasn’t someone in need of saving, no matter what some well-meaning prince thought. He had long since given up on changing who he was. No amount of pleading, doe-eyed stares were going to change that.

 

***

 

“I have to say,” Cisco said, brushing his dark hair behind his ear as he cast a glance further down the path into the market, “you probably hear this often, but you’re nothing like I expected.”

Lisa flashed him a coquettish smile. It was so easy to make him blush, and it delighted her every time to see that pretty shade of pink linger on his cheeks. “You certainly know how to flatter a girl, Cisco.”

He looked like he was going to start spluttering for a moment, flushing a darker pink. When he’d arrived at her house that morning – thankfully a few hours after Lewis had stumbled out of the house – she’d been wary of his invitation to talk once more, especially since he’d remembered the path to her home without her telling him. Despite his reassurances that he wanted to only talk, no matter how honest they seemed, she knew better than to accept blindly. Cisco had offered once or twice for her to come back to his house with him, to show her how he channeled magic away from prying eyes, but she declined without hesitance every time. Amplewick wasn’t known for its kind, truthful gentlemen, after all, no matter how candid he seemed.

It certainly helped that Cisco had spotted her in town a few more times since the rally nearly a week before, bright-eyed and surprisingly enthusiastic about seeing her, and if they had struck up a couple more conversations since then, not just about magic and their thoughts on magical politics, but little things like their favorite places to eat and whether they were weary of the frequent rainstorms that had been plaguing the kingdom…

Well, what Lenny didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Besides, she didn’t know how to describe it, but Cisco gave off a different _feeling_ than the other men she usually played around with in the village, something tangible and warm that her brother would tease her until her dying breath about if he heard her explain it. Maybe it was his own ability to wield magic or simply hers reacting to his proximity, but she’d never felt anything like _this_ before.

So maybe Lisa was a little intrigued for selfish reasons. It wasn’t as if Lenny was up for evaluating her magic, not that she’d ever ask him to.

(She knew, though he’d never admit it for her sake, what he thought of magic. She didn’t blame him, of course; he just wasn’t like her. There was no point in asking.)

Plus, it was amusing to watch Cisco ramble on about anything and everything. He tended to delve into his own little world, forgetting about where he was going or who was around him. She wasn’t certain whether he was attempting to impress her with his knowledge or simply enjoyed talking about his latest attempts to brew yet another antidote to his brother’s memory loss potion.

Cisco smiled sheepishly back at Lisa. “I just mean - it’s been a while since I’ve had someone to talk to about magic or, well, _anything_ outside of my family. Dante means well most of the time, but he’s not as interested in pursuing a career as a mage. I think even my parents are trying to get me to become a blacksmith.” He shuddered. “My point is, most people aren’t _friendly_ when it comes to magic.” His expression darkened, a shadow of mixed sorrow and annoyance falling over that usually bright smile.

Lisa understood that sentiment all too well. “It’s a shame, truly. I’ve always been fascinated by it.”

“It _is_ fascinating, isn’t it?” Cisco moved out of the way of an oncoming cart, not taking his eyes off Lisa as they came to the town square. “No one takes the time to understand, but there are all these rules and just as many loopholes when it comes to even the simplest of spells. It’s not that frightening once you get the hang of channeling it. Though I can’t imagine what it’d be like for someone more powerful than me, which is…pretty much most mages and probably every fae out there – _but_! Imagine the possibilities if learning magic was a normality. We have a hard enough time trying to understand why it exists in some creatures and humans and not others when we should be thinking about how it works as a whole.”

“A whole? What else is there to it?”

He almost looked indignant at the question. “Magic isn’t some power only mages and fae can use. If it was, someone would have figured out how to manipulate or steal it by now. No, it’s something else entirely. Like, a living entity of its own.”

“You say that like it’s alive.”

She hadn’t thought it was possible for his eyes to light up more than they had moments before, but Cisco Ramon seemed to be full of surprises today. “I think it might be _._ Mages merely borrow magic for spells, whether it’s for everyday use or battling ogres. We can’t turn a mouse into a pumpkin at the drop of a hat, after all. Even fae are simply better at channeling magic than us, maybe something to do with their upbringing or the environment. Think of spells as, well, asking permission to buy something from your parents. At least, that’s how I think of it.”

Lisa’s stomach lurched. She wasn’t sure it was necessarily _permission_ that caused vegetation to sprout indoors at her feet or glass to shatter at a moment’s notice. She certainly didn’t ask permission to do any of that.

Cisco didn’t notice her reaction to his theory, having paused to apologize to an older woman he bumped into, either not noticing or ignoring the disgust that crossed her face once she recognized him. Lisa was tempted to glare at the woman herself; she hadn’t realized how many people in the village eyed Cisco like he was some sort of heathen until they’d begun talking, and she couldn’t stop now that she _had_ noticed.

It didn’t escape Lisa’s attention that she would’ve been in a similar, perhaps even worse, situation if her own lineage was public.

Cisco looked ready to apologize to her as well when he turned around. Before he could open his mouth, Lisa grabbed his wrist and tugged him over to the nearest bench. At least then they’d be out of the way of any more disapproving old women.

“Thank you.” The self-conscious stare tugged at the corners of his face.

“Of course. I figured we ought to rest anyway. We’ve been walking for quite some time.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

Lisa couldn’t help the pout that formed on her lips. “I don’t mind. I haven’t had anyone to talk to much, even around the village.”

“Yeah, but, I – well, I’ve been taking over the conversation. Not that I’m trying to pressure you into talking, because I’m not, truly, I only meant – ”

He was missing the point entirely. Lisa sighed, drawing his gaze back to her. “Cisco, if I wanted to leave, we wouldn’t still be having this conversation.”

“I get that – ”

“I don’t think you do.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, tamping down on the jolt that passed between them, a faint thrum curling in her gut. If Cisco felt it too, he gave no such indication. He did go quiet, though. “I’m trying to say that I’m having a good time. I wouldn’t bother with lying unless I wasn’t, and I’m not. Besides, you’re cute when you ramble.”

There was that pink flush. Cisco gave a nervous laugh, glancing away. “I’m sure you say that to all the mages,” he joked half-heartedly.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong about him attempting to impress her. In his own, nerdy way, she supposed. Still, he was already doing far better without the typical promises of quests fulfilled in her name – nothing happened in Amplewick, and dragon-slaying was nice but she didn’t need some machismo-obsessed hero when she could take care of herself just fine, thank you – or endless gifts of diamonds when they came into inheritance – which…all right, that one maybe not so take-it-or-leave-it. A girl knew what she liked, after all.

Somehow she found it strangely sweet.

“Well, I haven’t met any until now.” Lisa tapped her fingers on his shoulder, shooting him a smile. “One’s enough for me.”

Cisco’s cheeks darkened. That odd hum surfaced under her fingertips once more, her magic (well, maybe not _specifically_ _hers_ anymore given how Cisco had been describing magic earlier) buzzing with earnest as he straightened, her hand sliding down his arm. Lisa had managed to work out magic was driven by emotions, what with the frequency things had shattered over the years whenever she was frightened, but this was a new feeling. Not quite the happiness that wrought daffodils and roses blossoming at her feet, but something similar.

Almost…contentment. Perhaps.

For the briefest of moments, for no more than a split-second, she weighed the pros and cons of telling Cisco she was fae, just to see whether he would understand this strange relationship she had with magic. He seemed to at least care for it, thinking it somewhat precious after all their conversations on the subject.

She wouldn’t tell him, of course. She did like Cisco, even if he was strange at times, but it was dangerous to trust and she couldn’t trust him with this.

One day, though…

An inkling of an idea dug its roots nice and snug into the back of her mind, burrowing away for later use. She would have to run it by Lenny, once she worked out the kinks, but if it worked…

They’d never need Lewis again.

Lisa’s smile broadened as Cisco asked her about her thoughts on getting lunch together that afternoon – which was a must, not that she’d admit to her stomach beginning to growl out loud.

Yes, she definitely liked this one.

 

***

 

Len had to set up another job for himself less than a week later or he’d go crazy sitting around the house.

Lewis wasn’t involved this time, off on a “business trip” of his own with orders to stay put in the village area until he returned (he’d learned that mistake when Len tried to smuggle Lisa out of the house the last time he left them alone as children). It was for the better, honestly. Len needed room to breathe and he could only take so much of his sister’s presence before he wanted to throw her jewelry out the window.

No, this time Len chose the marks, just a few folk in the village who had more than enough money to go around, and swiped a decent amount of their gold before they returned home for lunch. Lisa was off with Ramon again – which he said nothing of, but he still gave her a _look_ before he left on his impromptu heist that caused her to roll her eyes. At least she was busy and doing something besides either experimenting with her magic or bothering him around the house like she usually would.

If only it wasn’t an overeager mage who could get her to sneak out to do something productive.

He shouldn’t be complaining – he wasn’t, not really, even if Lisa’s taste in men was questionable at best; he remembered that traveling asshat Sam Scudder all too well. After all, Len knew a bored and cooped-up Lisa was never a good combination, and Ramon was saving them both from hours of moping, quite frankly.

Not to mention the fact that Len had a particular itch to scratch as well.

Stealing from the villagers was far too easy, and after checking in on Lisa in the village, he decided to take the long way home through the woods. Len had been avoiding his usual path as of late, sticking to the house when he could. Despite the fact that people didn’t ride through these woods often, Len was always wary of taking detours or shortcuts. He’d begun hearing rumors about ogres going rogue, pushing their way toward local villages and raiding them overnight.

Len remained mostly ambivalent to the sake of most magical creatures – because no matter what Wells tried to push, they really weren’t that violent or awful towards humans, jeez – but he didn’t like the sound of cannibalistic beasts inching closer to Amplewick.

He made a mental note to remind Lisa not to walk through the forest at night.

His recent cautiousness also had nothing to do with a certain prince. Truly.

Len even paid a visit to the clearing with the stream where he had first come face-to-face with Barry. There was no sign of the man anywhere, no footprints to suggest that he had been hiding or waiting for Len to arrive with his guards. He dropped his hand from his sword.

It wasn’t out of relief. Not really.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, to be honest. When Barry had cornered him in the market, Len had expected to be arrested immediately or followed home. Barry knew the general direction of his home, after all. Surely a prince had no shortage of armed guards who would be more than happy to investigate the disappearance of someone he deemed treasonous.

Yet, there had been nothing since Lewis’ “punishment”. No rumors, no guards, no less-than-subtle ambushes. No princes attempting to strike up conversations or persuade him into seeing the perks of giving up thieving.

There was something peaceful, and unnerving, about the silence. Not only with Barry, but with the clearing itself. Len had never thought much on this place, never lingered for too long before his senses started to buzz, but something felt inherently…not right.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Len whipped around on instinct, drawing his sword with a sneer to face the figure he hadn’t seen hiding in between the trees near him. The sunlight caught the man’s wide smile, all teasing and no bite, somehow unfazed by the weapon pointed in his direction. Len lowered his arm lamely as recognition flared in the back of his mind.

So much for silence.

“Somehow I doubt this time came about on _accident_ , Scarlet.”

The prince eased forward from where he had been leaning against the trunk and shrugged. The casual air he carried about him was still as irksome as it had been in their previous encounters. “Maybe not.”

Len took the chance to look over the prince’s - _Barry’s_ , he corrected in his mind begrudgingly - form. He was clad in a tunic a few shades lighter than his moniker, black trousers hugging his legs nicely as he came to stop a couple feet from Len with dark boots to match. A different cloak this time, worn and browning from use, clung to his shoulders, the hood cast down.

Ah. He had snuck out of his palace again, so it seemed. Though the reason why was unclear.

Perhaps he was going to make good on the threat of arresting him.

All in all, he appeared a harmless, lovely young man who only wanted to chat.

Len had never trusted pretty things at face value.

“A little far from your castle, aren’t you, Your Highness?” Len drawled, sheathing his sword. He noted Barry’s ill-concealed weapon hiding under the cloak. Cute. As if he thought Len wouldn’t notice. “Running away from your problems again?”

Barry chuckled at the jab. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Len’s lips twitched. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re hiding behind trees like the bogeyman.”

Barry shook his head, his smile growing. “I guess not.” He paused to stare at Len. Whatever he was searching for in his face, he appeared satisfied. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.”

Those kinds of admissions were dangerous, addictive, curling in Len’s chest contentedly like a tabby cat on a long winter’s night. A different uneasiness flickered within his veins, warnings that sounded suspiciously like Lewis’s voice hissing in the back of his mind.

What kind of man snuck out of his own home - his _castle_ , nonetheless - to see a wanted thief?

The first meeting could be chalked up to chance, fate, luck, whatever it was that brought the two of them to the same place at the same time. The second a coincidence perhaps, both stumbling upon each other once more out of the blue - and a little petty theft on Len’s part.

A third run-in was no coincidence, no chance, and Barry was deliberately seeking him out now, despite everything implied about Len’s background. Hell, he’d seen the man _twice_ after he’d robbed nobles. There was nothing about Len that ought to seem inviting or curious enough to examine more than once.

Considering how well their last meeting had gone, Len wasn’t clear on what to expect. Barry seemed more cheerful and willing to play along this time. Though perhaps there were guards waiting behind the trees and he was merely stalling again.

Those green eyes were still locked on his, expectant. Len sighed, taking a step in Barry’s direction. “Won’t your dear regent be missing you?”

Something hard - _finally_ \- glimmered in that eager gaze. Barry’s shoulders dropped but he stood his ground. “He’s used to me sneaking off. He’d hardly be surprised if he knew I was gone. Besides, I have someone to cover for me at the castle.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I had to tell her where I was going, though, so she wouldn’t worry.”

A muscle jumped in Len’s jaw at the implication. “Been swapping stories about me?” Was this the same person who had told Barry about the first robbery?

The last thing he wanted was for more royalty to know his name and what he did for a living. It was bad enough that Barry had found out, that the man knew where he _lived_.

“Only to my best friend!” Barry’s eyes widened and he held up a hand in reassurance. Nerves erased any amusement from his features. “I told her about running into a stranger in the woods. And how we met a second time. But that’s all, I swear.”

He stared Barry down as the other squirmed and the realization dawned slowly: the anxiety didn’t stem from fear of _retaliation_ from Len but rather from the fear of _scaring the thief away_.

He wasn’t sure how to handle that knowledge. “Calm down, kid. Just teasing. Though you’ve caught my interest with this _friend_ of yours.” He tilted his head. “Do they know you go about stalking strangers in your spare time?”

Barry snorted but he did relax at the familiar teasing. “She seemed to think it was amusing that we kept running into each other.”

“And here you are again.”

“Indeed.” Barry hesitated, and his voice softened. “Third time’s the charm, right?”

Len barked out a laugh before he could stifle the sound. “For what? Going to stop me from committing another robbery?”

Barry’s eyes darted to the suspiciously full knapsack on Len’s back and exasperation tugged its way onto his face. “Something tells me that’d be pointless. Looks like I’m already too late. Don’t you have other hobbies? Less _treasonous_ hobbies, perhaps?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He didn’t bother appearing stern this time; Barry rolled his eyes, ducking his head to hide the small smile forming on his lips. The sight caused Len’s chest to warm - not in the unpleasant, searing manner that was often brought on by his curse of obedience, but a pleasant feeling that tickled his insides.

“Besides,” Len said, turning away as he watched Barry lift his head out of the corner of his eye, “something tells me you’re enjoying these romps in the woods far too much to turn me in to the palace guards.”

The prince’s cheeks flushed but he closed the distance between them, stopping less than a foot away with that blinding grin. “Maybe.”

“How did you know I’d be back here?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Feeling sentimental, more likely,” Len shot back.

“It won’t kill you to admit that you missed me, you know.”

The tease reminded him too much of Lisa, of the gleam in her eyes when he returned from Lewis’ jobs in one piece. The two of them would get on like a house on fire.

If he hadn’t already made up his mind about not telling her about Barry, this certainly cemented it.

“Will I get tackled this time if I do?”

“I make no promises. But I _did_ apologize for that. How many times are you going to bring that up?”

“As many as it takes for you to explain what it is you’re really doing here.”

Barry’s smile faltered. “I really did want to see you.”

“Doesn’t sound like an answer to me.”

Barry ran a hand through his hand. Len could practically smell the tension he reeked, and the dwindling remaining distance did him no favors. It was the market all over again, with the prince struggling to stall and lecture him at the same time.

“I figured it’d be easier to talk when you weren’t going to run. There’s really no one here but me,” Barry said quickly, holding up his hands as Len’s hand twitched toward his sword. “I promise! I just – you ran off before I could explain anything.”

“I hardly think there’s anything to explain.”

“I don’t want to arrest you, Len.” Barry actually looked sincere, almost guilty enough for him to care.

“Life’s not always about what we want, is it? Don’t try and rope me into this pity party. If you’re not here to arrest me – ”

“Why the obsession with stealing, then? Answer me that. You ought to have enough, if you do it this often. Is it for your family, or – ?”

“I hardly think that’s any of your business,” Len broke in. Barry’s words hit a little too close to home; his jaw clenched as the humor left him.

“You breaking the law makes it my business!” Barry huffed and chewed on his lip. “Look, is it – is it about the bruises, because if someone’s making – ”

“I said, _drop it_ , Barry.”

Barry’s expression shifted, growing firm and stony. The warning flew straight over his head. “I need you to be honest with me! You didn’t seem to have an issue with that before.”

Len stepped closer, resisting the urge to grind his teeth together. He was starting to regret this heist, the thrill and adrenaline turning sour already. He wasn’t eager to start sharing childhood stories just because Barry supposedly wanted to help him. “My business is my own. I don’t think anyone would approve of their future king trying to reason with bandits in the woods. If this could even be _called_ reasoning, because you’re doing a pitiful job thus far.”

“No, that’s not – ”

“If you’re trying to root out some charitable reason, Scarlet, you’d be better off convincing your regent to kiss an ogre. I do this because I _enjoy_ it.”

Barry frowned and shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, start believing, kid.”

“Look – ”

Len took another step forward, silencing the other’s protest with a finger against his lips. He could see Barry swallow hard as Len tilted his head, but he didn’t object further.

“I’m a liar and a thief,” Len murmured, his voice steely. The caress of Barry’s hitch of breath over his face is curiously satisfying. “There are no _issues_ behind this. No one made me steal anything today, I’m no one’s puppet. It’s a _game_. If you’re going to keep telling me how good I can be, I’d suggest trying the ‘upstanding subject’ speech on someone else.” He lowered his hand and pressed the finger against Barry’s chest instead, more insistently. “ _Now_ , unless you’re here to throw me in one of your dungeons, I think it’s time to move along, Your Highness.”

Barry stared back, his eyes darting over Len’s features. To his credit, he didn’t back away, standing at his full height even as Len’s unmoving finger dug into his tunic. Len would bet all the gold in his knapsack that the other’s stubborn streak could almost give Lisa’s a run for its money.

It took a couple of seconds before Barry grimaced, glancing away from him. It almost looked like he was staring at the stream near them. “I can’t do that.”

“If you rode here, you can ride right back out.”

“I’m not leaving. Why do you want me to go so badly anyway? ‘Places to be’?” The mocking tone would’ve been amusing in any other situation.

“Precisely. So stop being stubborn for the sake of it and leave me be.” Len was about to step back, but Barry’s hand shot out and seized his wrist. It wasn’t a tight grip, he could slip loose if he yanked hard enough, but nonetheless annoying.

He glared at Barry, and his patience shrank when the look didn’t faze him. “I mean it. Let go.”

Barry cocked an eyebrow. “Who was it that said I needed to stop letting Wells walk all over me?”

The little _imp_. “I said no such thing.”

“You implied it,” Barry said sweetly, doubling down on his grip when Len tugged.

“Then I take it back. Leave the lectures to Wells.”

“This isn’t a lecture.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Would you just – ” Barry shut his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously close to _just as bad as Iris_ before he fixed his own glare on Len. “Stop and listen to me for a minute!”

Len bit his tongue, his chest burning as the obedience kicked in. Any words – some of them rather choice ones about Barry’s tenacity – died in the back of his throat and his mouth clamped shut.

At least the command was literal this time. All he had to do was wait fifty-seven more seconds.

Barry waited a moment, his brow furrowing with surprise when Len did as he said before he sighed. “I don’t want to arrest you.” He dropped Len’s wrist almost gently. The resulting hesitance, as if he truly were afraid Len would bolt without a word, made something twist and coil around his insides. He didn’t like the feeling.

“If you don’t want to tell me why you’re doing this… Fine. Don’t. I just – ” Barry crossed his arms over his chest, his hands brushing Len’s as he moved them into position. “Whether you believe me or not, you’re not a bad person. Call me righteous if you want, but you’re not. You’d have done a lot worse than make empty threats and get in my face if you wanted to hurt me. Not that what you’re doing, stealing, is good, because it _isn’t_.”

Len couldn’t help but snort, and the sound caused the corners of Barry’s mouth to curl upward ever-so-slightly. “As long as you’re not hurting anyone or using the gold for anything nefarious, though… I don’t see why I should turn you in.” Barry paused, a sudden thought striking him. “Wait, you _didn’t_ hurt anyone, did you? Like the woman in the carriage?”

Len gestured to his mouth, perhaps a little more petulantly than needed, and Barry rolled his eyes. He probably thought Len was simply being an ass. “Speak.”

“And here I thought you wanted me to stay quiet,” Len purred, working his jaw gratefully.

“ _Len._ ”

“Relax. If I had wanted to hurt people, you would know by now. None of them will miss their precious gold for long anyways. That’s the thing with you nobles: you replace it soon enough.”

Barry shook his head, but he seemed relieved.  Len was almost insulted that he’d think otherwise. “Fine. But, really, I’m not going to stand by you doing this. You _are_ better than this, Len.”

“So, turning a blind eye and playing favorites is better than catching thieves?”

“I’m not – ” Barry’s mouth swung shut at Len’s incredulous look, his cheeks lighting up. “That’s not what this is.”

“Hmm. Whatever you say, Scarlet.”

“It’s not… I can’t explain why, I just…” Barry’s gaze fell to the stream again. That nagging feeling from before returned, the one he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Len raised an eyebrow.

“Thinking about going for a swim?”

Even when blatantly distracted, Barry chuckled. “Nothing like that. I – ” His amusement began to wither, stripping away the tension as his shoulders slackened. Up close, Len could see all his freckles painting those cheeks as the flush faded as well.

 _Not distracted_ , Len thought, watching green eyes soften, openly vulnerable. _Nostalgic._

“You walk here too?”

Barry faced him, blinking as if to clear his head. “Hmm?”

“You said you came here often with your mother,” Len reminded him, waving a hand toward the clearing. “This place look familiar?”

There it was again, that soft, far-away stare. “Yeah. My mother loved this stream. She came here as a child.”

“Oh?”

Barry smiled sadly, not quite looking at Len. A distant memory of warm smiles and birthday cake swam in the forefront of his mind, and Len forced himself to look away. “It reminds me of her. She always liked it here, just after it rained. Said it felt like home.” He laughed, the sound hollow and self-deprecating. Len instantly hated it. “I don’t know. I sound ridiculous, sorry.”

“There’s nothing wrong with missing them, Barry.”

Barry dropped his arms, his smile strained. Len had never seen him look so wrong-footed, so lost.

“It’s not just that, it’s…” A growl of frustration left Barry as he turned away and sat on the grass beside the river. That whiff of ozone, the sense of thunder before the storm, stung Len’s nose despite the sunny skies above them. Len wasn’t sure it was from the frequent rainstorms at all. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like… I feel her here.” Barry ducked his head, a quiet sigh leaving him.

Len was no expert in comfort – Lisa was better at soothing some of the younger children in the village, better with emotions. He avoided talking about them if he could help it, bottled away what he wanted to express and kept the lid screwed shut. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Barry. Secrets and personal information weren’t meant to be shared in his line of work, especially not if you worked with others. Telling Barry anything, with him still a near-stranger, was hardly a smart choice.

But grief was something he knew, something he remembered not-as-painfully now that he was decades older, and he hated the twist in his chest at the look on Barry’s face, so he found himself hesitantly lowering the knapsack from his shoulders, setting it beside his feet as he sat on the ground near Barry. His skin prickled at the proximity – though not in an uncomfortable manner, more of a strange heat that nipped at his skin, not that he could explain the sensation well. He didn’t look at Barry, kept his eyes glued to the movement of the water just as the prince was.

“My mother passed when I was nearly ten.” Out of the corner of his eye, Len spotted Barry turn his head. “She became ill and we didn’t have enough for a healer.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered.

Len shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I learned to work through it. Taking care of my sister helped.”

“Sister?”

“Half-sister, I suppose.”

Barry nodded. He still bore that lost stare, though he didn’t seem as distant. “What’s her name?”

Len paused, but the reassurance written on Barry’s face loosened his tongue. “Lisa.”

“Does she know you…?” Barry made a vague gesture toward the knapsack.

Len didn’t bother suppressing his laugh. “Yes, she does. She quite likes it.” Save for when he was sent on spur-of-the-moment heists against his will.

“Of course she does.”

“Don’t look so glum, Scarlet,” Len hummed, scanning the other from head to toe. “If you want something shiny too, all you have to do is ask.”

“I don’t think I should be happy that you’re offering to steal something for me.”

“You’re saying you’re _not_ intrigued about the idea of it?”

He only meant to tease, but a small smile formed on Barry’s lips, whether he knew it or not, and the sight, coupled with something unmistakably _fond_ in the depths of Barry’s eyes, was…a bit much.

“Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	6. Empty Hands and Empty Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which carelessness is a mistake and Len talks trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating on a weekly schedule? Clearly an impostor.
> 
> Anyway, who's ready for shit to hit the fan, eh?

Amplewick’s marketplace was hardly grand or awe-inspiring; in all the time the village had been erected in Central Kingdom, there had never been more than a couple hundred living in the area, including the woods that made up the far left of the village and stretched further into other towns. You’d imagine with it being the closest village to the castle there’d be more excitement, more hustle and bustle all around.

The truth was rather sad. The stalls were few and far between, usually held by the wealthier residents who had more thrilling prizes to sell, such as jewelry, fresh fruit and vegetables from nearby farms, and well-made (albeit expensive) silken clothes. Those who could not afford a stall set up shop on the street or alleyways close to the town square where it was surely busier.

Nevertheless, it was small, no more than a few streets long, and visitors from other kingdoms and towns were rare. Len found himself wincing at the boisterous voices when he traveled to kingdoms on Lewis’ orders, usually coming from shopkeepers or aggravated customers. Star Kingdom’s marketplace was no picnic and bound to grant him a migraine within mere hours.

He rather preferred the much quieter atmosphere of Amplewick, even with the lack of notoriety and sometimes shabby quality of products. If you knew how to get on their good sides, shopkeepers could be your best friends – Len had once flattered a jeweler enough that he’d agreed to lower the price nearly twenty gold coins from its original hefty fee. It was all about connections and playing nice rather than fighting through crowds.

People-watching in the market was also more entertaining when you knew most of the village. The streets were busy today, all the stalls and shops teeming with customers as they bargained for food and supplies for the coming months. With the humid, not-yet-autumn-but-oh-so-close summer air saturating the marketplace, most were already sweat-stained and dabbing their brows. Their children had the right idea, taking up balls and playing amongst friends in the town square, squeals piercing the buzz of haggling prices. Not even the guards roaming the streets, keeping an eye on the rowdier citizens, seemed unaffected by the sweltering heat.

Leaning against the wall of what once was a carpentry – from what Lisa had mentioned, the family had decided to move closer to the palace, something about opportunities elsewhere – Len found himself more occupied with twisting his apple in hand rather than tasting it, only a couple of bites breaching the skin of the fruit. He wasn’t a fan of the heat himself, rather hoping for more rain like they’d seen the past weeks, but with everyone out of the house he’d hoped to entertain himself in the village somehow. All he seemed to be getting for his troubles were humidity and an uncomfortable slickness along his sweat-soaked back.

If he were feeling up to it, Len might start contemplating taking a dip in the river. Lisa would enjoy that, if she weren’t already occupied with a certain mage (he was beginning to wonder whether he ought to place a limit on how many times the two could sneak off each week, even if Lewis wasn’t heading home anytime soon). She had always enjoyed swimming.

Any excuse to drench her brother with water using magic also seemed to be a perk.

Len suppressed a snort and took a slow bite. Actually, the river was sounding like a better idea the more he stood here. Even if it entailed getting soaked to the bone. It wasn’t too out of their way from home, especially if it meant Central Kingdom princes were able to find its waters with little guidance.

The thought of Barry gave him pause. It had been a few days since their third encounter, enough time for the full weight of what had transpired to settle in, and Len didn’t find himself any less puzzled than he’d been days ago.

Frankly, he didn’t understand why Barry had chosen to let him walk free when he had witnessed Len’s theft once and been privy to stolen goods two more instances. It made no sense for the prince to play favorites, if that indeed was what Barry was doing. Whether he claimed it was because of the supposed “good” he saw in Len or not, wasn’t it meant to be his duty to carry out the law?

The far-off gleam in his eyes and furtive glances when he thought Len wasn’t paying attention hadn’t escaped his notice; maybe Barry didn’t understand his own decision either.

Len wasn’t complaining, far from it. He hadn’t anticipated leaving the clearing without being arrested, much less given a verbal slap on the wrist.

Maybe the kid had a point, though. Len’s petty theft was nowhere near the biggest concern at hand for royalty with the upcoming coronation at large. There were many more subjects going hungry who more often than not resorting to stealing their next meals and got away with the deed.

Empathy, then, was his savior?

Len frowned. Barry certainly seemed like the type to offer food to the impoverished, the one you first pictured giving bread to children on the streets of Central Kingdom.

He didn’t like the thought of being compared to a starving child.

Barry hadn’t looked at him with pity the other day, at least. Even when he went quiet by the stream for a few minutes, not once had Len caught a glimpse of the familiar arrogance or distaste most noblemen or women displayed when they passed through. Maybe it was due to being cooped up in the castle – though the multiple visits already were rather telling of Barry’s free spirit, no matter how many times he insisted on arguing about running from his responsibilities – but the way he nudged Len’s knee playfully, aiming a kind, patient stare in Len’s direction whenever he spoke, made his stomach lurch. Len knew without meeting the man that Harrison Wells would never have relaxed so easily around someone he considered a subject, and not with a thief in spitting distance.

If not Wells, maybe it was the fae in him. Lisa was optimistic enough despite being stashed away from her peers for most of her life and Lewis’ abuses.

“You look like you’re some sort of an assassin stalking these poor children. Either that or your apple is so fascinating, it became a crystal ball all on its own.”

Speaking of baby sisters.

Len withdrew himself from his thoughts to spare Lisa’s simper a cool look, lowering his arm where his apple had been hovering before his mouth. “Very funny. Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” she shot back, snatching the fruit from his grasp and darting a step away before he could steal it back. He wrinkled his nose as she took a large bite, juice squirting between her fingers. “Though you’d certainly know that if you’re planning on following poor Cisco and I around all day.”

She wasn’t wrong; Len had kept track of where the pair were headed for most of the morning, lagging behind so neither caught sight of him. Apparently, he hadn’t done a decent job blending in with the crowd.

Or Lisa knew him too well. Which was the more likely explanation.

Taking his silence as an affirmation, her lips pursed as she swallowed the chunk of apple. “Whatever happened to trusting me, Lenny?”

“It’s you I trust, not him.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’d revive the fly using some spell or potion if he could.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be careful.”

Lisa huffed and folded her arms across her chest primly. “I  _am_  careful. I wouldn’t bother with him if I wasn’t. You know that.”

He did. “Still,” he warned, shifting his weight so he looked down on his sister from his position against the abandoned shop, “it doesn’t hurt to take precautions. Speaking of which, I hope you didn’t abandon your beau.”

Lisa sent him a dirty look. “Of course not. He’s going to meet me back here after getting us some food. It’s awfully hot, after all.”

Meaning Lisa had managed to weasel her way into getting the mage to pay for her meal. If she didn’t pull this trick every chance she had – including on him when they used to spend more time wandering the marketplace together – Len might have been impressed.

“How chivalrous.”

“He is.” He rolled his eyes and her gaze sharpened in the way it always did when she was losing patience or dealing with a particularly irksome suitor, which was rather ironic given the conversation. “Is this because of what he is or because he’s interested at all?”

“Would you be satisfied if I said both?”

“Try  _irritated_.”

Len opened his mouth, likely to fire back an equally dry comment, when movement across the square drew his gaze and the words shriveled on the tip of his tongue. Lunch had nearly passed, the sun high in the sky regardless of any possible future prospects of rain, and a man in a musty tunic toting a tankard of beer was stumbling his way down the street with a permanent glower etched on his features.

A man that looked suspiciously like  _Lewis Snart_.

Heading in the direction of the forest, heading  _home._

“Lenny?” Lisa scoffed, assuming he was ignoring her when, in fact, he was frozen from the vice grip of dread seizing his heart. “Oh, how very mature of you.”

He didn’t know why Lewis chose to cut his visit to the tavern short, but it spelled nothing good for either of them. Shit.

_Lisa._

She wouldn’t make it home in time, and certainly not before Lewis spotted her if his remarkably fast pace for a drunk was anything to go by. He hadn’t seen either of them yet, but they weren’t exactly hiding in the open square.

“Lenny, really, what – ”

He pulled her to his right, into the shadow of the old carpentry where no one would see them talking. Len ignored her squawks of protest this time, glancing over his shoulder to check on Lewis’ progress.

“What the  _hell_  - ?”

“You need to head home right now.”

Lisa started to draw back. “Absolutely not – ”

“Lewis left the tavern.” Lisa closed her mouth abruptly and he jumped on her shock as his cue to continue. “He’s heading back to the house.”

His sister’s eyes flitted between his and the town square. She finally appeared to spot their father as well, the color draining from her cheeks. The apple dropped from her hands to the ground, already forgotten. At their feet, Len swore he saw tiny buds, almost like weeds, beginning to sprout at their feet.

“He’s going to see if I run,” she whispered, coming to the same conclusion he had. The stark panic dawning on her face caused his gut to churn. “I can’t go the long way home, he’ll beat me there.”

“I’ll stall him,” Len promised. “Don’t run until you ’round the corner, I’ll distract him as long as I can.”

“ _Lenny_  – ”

“It’ll be fine.” He chanced another glance toward Lewis and straightened, pulling away from the wall. “He won’t suspect a thing if he doesn’t see you.”

Lisa paused. He could see the gears turning in her head at breakneck speed. They both knew what distracting their father entailed, having done it enough for one another as children, though it was usually Len for Lisa’s sake. Lewis, even with his senses dulled by drink after drink, was sharp as a tack but he fell for the lure of disciplining his children more often than not.

“What about Cisco?”

The fact that she bothered to ask was telling, but for once Len held off on making jokes. “I’ll let him know you had to hurry back,” he said, more to dismiss her worrying than anything else. He figured Ramon could deal with a few hours away from his sister.

“I don’t think – ”

“Stay hidden,” Len cut her off, edging away from the shadows where Lisa remained invisible at first glance. “Wait until he turns to look at me before you leave.”

Lisa looked torn, but she nodded with only a second of hesitation. Len didn’t dare look back as he turned and kept a steady, leisurely pace across the square toward Lewis. It wasn’t the first time they’d been forced to delay Lewis like this – she knew how to be careful and keep up the illusion of remaining home alone all too well by now.

As he drew nearer, however, Len realized his father was still alert despite the slurred laughter as he shouldered his way past a couple without regard for personal space. He must have only had a few drinks, not enough to squash his paranoia about Lisa’s status at home. That had to be it.

“S’fucking hot,” Lewis was grumbling in between low laughs. “Too hot out here.”

Len sidled up near him, schooling his face just in case. “Thought you’d be out later.”

Lewis barely looked at him. He didn’t seem perturbed by his son’s sudden interest in holding a conversation with him, more fascinated by the bottom of his tankard of beer. “Shouldn’t you be home?”

“Wanted some fresh air.”

Lewis snorted. “Sure. Heading back now. Leaving that freak alone again…s’bad idea.”

This wasn’t working. Plan B it was, then.

Figures that the one way to grab Lewis’ attention was to goad him into a fight.

“You got that right, old man.” Len held his ground as Lewis’ head swiveled toward him, his brow knitting together. He watched as Lewis slowly faced him full-on, not daring to peek elsewhere in case Lisa was inching her way out hiding. The bewildered stare was almost comical. “Probably tearing apart the house as we speak. Wouldn’t be surprised if we came back to find her long gone with all your gold.”

“The hell are you on about?”

Len shrugged, strolling closer, as if it were an unconscious decision rather than a choice to maintain Lewis’ attention. “I said you’re right. Though I don’t know how well that holds up in your current state. Pathetic, really.”

Lewis continued to stare at him, Len’s words taking their sweet time to sink into his thick head. Len had more than enough practice in creating masks against his father’s scrutiny –  _keep an impassive face, show you’re indifferent to what comes next, stick to the plan unless Lewis derails it, then create a new plan_  – to know when it was best to stand still in the face of the predator at hand. The intensity of his stare burned through his bones, inspecting every twitch and miniscule feature of Len’s face.

Then Lewis’ expression broke with his laughter, startling and too loud for a public setting. Len just stopped himself from jumping at the noise. A couple of kids twisted around nearby, pausing their game to see what was so funny.

“You’re a real comedian. You think you’re funny, huh, Leo?”

Len said nothing, upholding the unimpressed air even as the name left bile in the back of his throat.

Lewis grinned, his mouth stretched too wide and insincere to really display genuine joy about the situation. It reminded Len of a wolf staring down his next meal. “Yeah, I bet you do. Tell you what: since you think you’re so funny, let’s play a little game. How does that sound, son?”

Len saw Lisa, walking just above normal speed through the square, nearly to the corner, over Lewis’ shoulder. There’s no mistaking the frantic bouncing of her brown curls, the urgent pace amidst the languid villagers.

“What kind of game?”

Something in his tone appeared to amuse Lewis further. He staggered forward and closed the distance between them, Lewis’ rancid breath fanning over his face. Len didn’t budge an inch, didn’t turn his head away even as his father pointed to something to the left just beyond his sightline.

“See those carts?” Len glanced in their direction, spying the sparse carts his father meant, glimpsing a few people setting up shop in the alleys not ten feet away. Thankfully, they were more preoccupied with laying out jewelry on their ragged blankets than this conversation. “They’re selling some nice shit.”

If you could call handmade blankets and trinkets  _nice shit._  “Yeah. I suppose.”

“Take those necklaces.”

Len braced himself for the command, but it still took him by surprise. His feet carried him over to the nearest cart as the owner stepped away to talk to his children, limbs aching with the fire in his veins. The man didn’t spy the quick swipe as he scooped up the jewelry in one hand and backpedaled toward Lewis.

They’d played this game when he was a child, before Lewis likely knew about the true nature of his obedience, back when Len had been more eager to appease the bastard and scramble for any praise he could earn. Never in an open environment, though, where anyone could easily track Len’s movements and put two and two together.

The glee that lit up Lewis’ eyes sickened him as he pocketed the necklaces. They weren’t even well-made, just some handmade chains with pretty baubles at the end.

“You’ve gotten quicker.”

“There. You had your fun,” Len said, eyeing the long gulp Lewis took from the tankard, draining it without a second thought. “Some nice jewelry for your ego.”

If Lewis heard the jab he gave no sign. “Go get some more.”

Len gritted his teeth against the searing blaze of the curse, stalling despite the urge to  _move, move, move!_  “You have more than enough.”

“Grab another.  _Now_.”

Len’s feet jerked out from under him, his hand rigid around another rusting chain as he stuffed it in his trouser pocket. His eyes darted to the old man manning the cart again, but he was still chatting with his children, ruffling their hair and laughing deep in his belly. An uncharacteristic spike of envy hit him in the gut before he could suppress the feeling. He barely had time to back away from the cart before the owner stood, moving back to rearrange his crude wares, a hair’s breadth from spotting Len.

“That’s enough.”

Lewis didn’t acknowledge his words, fishing the necklace out himself with a dark chuckle. Len could feel his curse already anticipating the next cue, beside itself with anticipation. He was tempted to hightail it, to duck away before Lewis could bark the next order, but the thought of Lisa racing home glued him to the spot.

He just needed to wait out his father’s greed, wait until he bored of his little game. Same as every time before.

“Take those potions next.”

Len again stalled, his legs stiff as he moved toward one of the blankets. The woman it belonged to bore a hawk-like gaze, her dark hair twisted on top of her head tightly as she peered at the children playing too close to her assorted potions and concoctions. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to hide from her.

“She’ll see me,” he ground out.

“Not if you’re fast enough.” The blatant delight in his voice made him want to throttle the old man.

“It’s too risky.”

“You know how I feel about  _excuses_ , Leo.”

He couldn’t stop himself from edging closer to the woman, his blood boiling from not just the curse this time. “You’re not going to use them,” he tried to reason. “They’re home remedies for colds, fevers, the like. What could you possibly need them for?”

“Unless that half-breed sister of yours starts spouting medicine like a fountain of youth,” Lewis snickered at the thought through his disdain, “we’ll need ’em. Now get your ass over there and  _take_  – ”

Len did the only thing he could think of to stop: he seized Lewis’ arm, the tankard slipping from his father’s grasp as his eyes widened, grabbing on to pull his legs to a halt. Every nerve in his body screamed to obey but he struggled to stay put, to ground himself with the putrid scent of beer and the inevitable slap to the face it would bring.

He didn’t bother dodging, letting Lewis shove him against the wall of the nearest building as his feet dragging uselessly as the curse fought to complete the command. His father wouldn’t dare harm him out in the open, not when heads were starting to turn, and he almost relished in the hard fury spreading on his features. At least it caged in his twitching limbs and prevented him from doing what his father wished.

Why was he toying with Len so recklessly and pushing this? Lewis was never this overt about his intentions, usually congratulating Len on a job well done when he’d gone unseen when stealing, when he  _wasn’t_  caught. Even he had to see this was ridiculous.

The taunting, the venomous grin across his face that toed the line of glee and mockery with little regard for –

Len’s stomach plummeted and sank like a stone into the earth below.

Lewis had no intention of letting him get off easy.

Implying Lisa’s escape had been too much, too far. Even if Lewis believed she had indeed run off with the gold, they both knew she wouldn’t leave Len alone to deal with the consequences. Between leaving the money alone with Lisa and his punishment, Len had thought it would be enough to assuage Lewis’ cruelty – and the bastard had counted on it.

It was a point, a statement that growled through bared teeth:  _Here’s where your cockiness gets you._

Len was going to get caught and Lewis would only watch with utter joy.

Yet another “lesson” of his father’s, no doubt.

Lewis’ gaze wasn’t fixed on Len, slipping past them to the onlookers, flitting among through the crowd and weighing the idea of teaching him another lesson right there and then. Len forced himself to steady his breathing as Lewis drew back a few inches, the shove more of a warning press against his chest now. Not that it did much good; the man likely could feel his heart kicking into gear through his tunic.

The grin returned at a snail’s pace from where it had been wiped away. With his gaze elsewhere, Len took a tentative step to the side, his hands digging into the grooves of the brick behind him to quell the flare of obedience that weaved through his veins like a massive spool of thread tied to a needle.

Thoughts of escape vanished when Lewis dropped a hand onto his shoulder.  _Stay put_ , a silent command that was both a relief and a grievance.

It took willpower he didn’t have not to flinch at the touch, almost as much as it was taking not to lurch towards the potions still.

“You know,” Lewis said with a condescending chuckle, low and cold for only their ears, “you’ve got a point. Why risk getting caught for some medicine?” He pulled Len around, their sides brushing. Anyone staring would think it a one-armed embrace, those who didn’t know them well placated by the familial touch.

That couldn’t be the end of it. It couldn’t be.

Len eyed Lewis’ nonchalant expression, searching for some sign that the fun was truly over. After all, he already had enough necklaces to appease himself with, if only to gloat about stealing his neighbors’ livelihood under their noses (because of course it wasn’t due to Len that he’d managed to obtain them, because in Lewis’ eyes he was a marionette dancing under his clever hands). There was no need to continue.

Then he spied the approaching cart – tailored shoes lining the top as the owner called to the crowds, urging them to take a closer look – and Lewis’ expression lit up. Any sense of relief was crushed in a vicious fist.

“Don’t be selfish, Leo,” Lewis hissed. The sound sent an involuntary chill crawling up his spine. “You want to get your sister something nice, don’t you?”

 _Bastard._ Len nearly bit off his tongue in an effort not to scream the word.

There was no mercy to be had. Lewis wouldn’t relent until he obeyed – or until his insides lit aflame from the amount of effort it took to remain standing still against the riptide of his curse.

“Take the shoes and bring them here.” The command thrummed in his bones, limbs squirming against his will. “ _Now_.”

Len jerked toward the cart, only feet away now, his hand rising even as he tried to lower it. “Don’t – ”

“ _Take it._ ”

Len obeyed, pulling the nearest slippers – a pale yellow, like hand-spun gold, how ironic - to his chest right as the man’s head lifted. He could hear Lewis’ muffled cackling.

The unfettered astonishment that flashed in the older man’s eyes gave way to anger in seconds. He surged to snatch them back but Len was no fool: he retreated, unable to release the damn shoes as he sent a nasty look back at his father. He couldn’t even hide with the curse determined to return the shoes.

“Guards!”

_Fuck._

Lewis’ grin turned wolfish. “Run.”

He did just that. Len didn’t look back, charging through the crowds of the market as the guards spotted him. The streets were congested with more obstacles to avoid and people to push past, but they also provided an opportunity to lose his pursuers.

He could hear the guards’ shouts behind him, still loud and on his tail, as more people took notice when he knocked shoulders with several of them. A young woman nearly tripped over herself trying to get out of his path. Len didn’t bother calling back apologies.

There was no time, he had to find someplace to avoid the guards, to lay low until they left or gave up. The guards weren’t necessarily cruel, but he knew they wouldn’t forgive and forget if one recognized his face in the future. If he escaped, there would be a higher risk of danger pulling any jobs around Central.

Damn it. So much for simply distracting Lewis. This had not worked out in his favor.

At least Lisa was on her way home, safe and sound.

Len ducked into the nearest alley, dancing around the scattered blankets and rickety carts as their owners shouted obscenities his way. Once or twice he stepped on someone’s wares but he did his best to navigate through the minefield of goods, trying not to trip over anyone’s toes. Judging by the increased yelling behind him, the guards weren’t having any such luck in that area.

“Watch where you’re going!” a woman exclaimed a little way behind him, clearly disgruntled – though whether it was with Len or his pursuers he couldn’t tell.

 _For once, a_ helpful _command_ , he couldn’t help but think wryly.

Len nearly stopped clean where he was, however, when a couple of guards, swords not yet drawn but they would be soon if their hands resting on the hilts were any indication, came into view at the end of the alley. He heard the guards from behind closing in simultaneously, if the yelps were anything to go by, fencing him into a corner like the teeth of a bear trap shutting tight.

An ambush. Of course.

Reeling back, he swore under his breath and glanced around for alternate routes. With two buildings on either side, those options were dwindling. He didn’t even have his sword with him. Not that he wanted to be charged with attacking palace guards on top of theft, but it still would’ve been comforting.

The only way out of the alley was through the two guards, it seemed. Either that or he’d find himself captured for sure.

Len made up his mind and broke into a sprint toward the opening of the alley. As the pair of guards started to draw their weapons he tossed the shoes into their faces, buying himself a split-second to squeeze past as they recoiled. The spluttering bordered on comical, had he been interested in seeing their reactions.

The tavern was up ahead, he could see it from here. As much as Len shirked at the idea of hiding in the place his father practically lived in these days, they had a back room no one used, and the barkeep wouldn’t think twice before letting him hide there. The man was fond of Lewis, and Len remembered him working there since he was a young boy. He surely wouldn’t mind sneaking him out back.

He could double back later, creep into the house through the window if he had to avoid Lewis. Lisa would be worried, but if Lewis went after her as well, whether as a punishment for Len or out of spite, she’d need a fair warning about the stunt he’d pulled.

“FREEZE!” came a bellowing cry from behind.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

Len’s limbs obeyed immediately, freezing him in place, balanced on one leg in the middle of the street. It was the woods all over again, with the prince gone and no help in sight as his feet weighed him down, cementing him to the spot. The people around him gasped and whispered, all perplexed by the sight.

Len struggled to overcome the heat surging through him, but he couldn’t move a muscle, same as last time. Hell, he couldn’t even lower his arms from the awkward position they were in, half-raised in motion.

He was going to _kill_ Lewis.

The guards surrounded him, wearing equally bewildered frowns as the captain approached him, eyes narrowed. He was the only one with his sword drawn, and looked more suspicious than confused, as if Len were playing a trick on them.

“Uh, unfreeze?” he said. His voice matched the shout that had stopped him cold, just at a lower volume.

Len stumbled as the curse released him and barely had time to recover his balance as his arms were seized.

Shit.

Len didn’t fight as they cuffed his hands in front of him; he allowed the nearest guard to yank him forward by the wrist, keeping a cool face. The rest of Amplewick, people he’d known all his life, watched from a safe distance and pretended he couldn’t see them whispering behind their hands.

“You’re under arrest,” the captain sheathed his sword, his gaze firm and something Len would almost call disappointment crept across his features, “for theft from your fellow peoples of Central Kingdom.”

Funny, how he’d been so concerned with Barry setting the palace guards on him when he’d forgotten how his own father could do the same – and so much worse.

 

***

 

“For someone who just got out of another boring, diplomatic meeting,” Iris teased as they rounded the corner of the corridor, “you’re awfully distracted. What’re you smiling about?” She raised an eyebrow in that all-too-familiar _you’re acting weird, Barry_ look she’d perfected after over a decade of practice. “Surely Wells’ lecture on ogres wasn’t _that_ exciting.”

Barry turned his head away, though he knew it was no use, and smiled. Iris wouldn’t be fooled, but one could hope. “Ah, it’s nothing. Just excited for, um, Caitlin to return tonight.”

“Uh huh.”

“Really! I am!”

“Have I ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”

It had been worth a try, at least. “Several times.”

“Well, you are. Maybe you should ask Wells to teach you _that_. For future practice of kingly skills.”

“Hilarious.”

“The worst part is, you know he’d go for it.”

Barry groaned. He could picture it now: entering the throne room and asking, as a joke, for Wells to teach him how to bluff and the man taking it seriously. Maybe even scheduling lessons that obliterated what little free time he hoarded. “Remind me not to leave you two alone in the same room for the next few weeks.”

Iris laughed at his misery. “I make no promises. Really, Barr. What’s got you in such a good mood lately? You’ve been flustered all week. And don’t tell me it’s about Caitlin.”

She’d certainly been keeping better tabs on him than he’d realized. Though it _was_ part of her job description, Barry supposed, best friend or not.

The truth was, while he was happy about his friend returning after her visit to her mother, all he could think about lately was the last encounter with Len. It was silly, since they had met three times, and none were spectacular, unless you counted the thieving and arguments.

Yet, remembering that day, sitting by the stream with the thief and losing himself to the conversation and the pulse of the earthy hum under his fingers…

It felt right in the same way only magic could worm its way under his skin.

He wasn’t clear on why, not when the voices whispering in his ears trilled at Len’s presence and still there was an undercurrent of danger lingering in the atmosphere every time they spoke. Len was hardly the most trustworthy person, with not just his occupation but the cold stare that seized Barry’s attention every time he spoke wrong. Barry should not feel anything pleasant or relax at all with Len around. Hell, he’d even agreed not to turn him in!

That memory made his stomach clench. He knew, deep down, that it wasn’t right and he ought to inform Joe and Iris of his whereabouts. It hadn’t taken long for Barry to find him again, after all; all it took was a few days of visiting the clearing in hopes of Len passing through.

Maybe next time he’d mention the idea of taking a safer route, even if it meant meeting Len elsewhere. The woods were a dangerous place, no matter if he lived there or not.

 _Another ‘next time’_.

Barry bit back a grimace. He could already hear the disapproving lecture from Iris in his head.

As if sensing his train of thought, said best friend’s brow furrowed at his silence. He took a deep breath and glanced around to ensure they were indeed alone.

“Do you remember when I asked for you to cover for me last week for a few days?”

“Yes, of course.” Her expression began to brighten. “Hold on. Is this about the man you’ve been sneaking around with? The ‘handsome stranger’ you met in town?”

His cheeks darkened. “I did _not_ describe him like that.”

“I beg to differ. But, is it?”

Barry rolled his eyes but he was unable to help the smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe.”

Iris pulled him to a stop and waited long enough to nod at a passing servant carrying a heap of linens before launching back into the conversation. “You know how I feel about strangers and woods and all that, but good for you! Really, I’m happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Of course! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen you this excited about anything, Barr? Not even that visit from the royal family of Star City made you blush this much. I’ve never seen you crazy about anyone like this.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it _that_ – ”

“You’ve been sparking all week,” Iris said, prodding his chest with one finger. “Even my father noticed your mooning.”

Barry ducked his head in embarrassment. “Alright, I get it. And it’s _not_ ‘mooning’. I’m… I think about him sometimes, that’s all.”

“And get me to cover for you so you can sneak out to see him _more than once_?”

It did sound pretty bad when she put it that way.

“It’s not like that, honestly. He certainly doesn’t think of me that way – and I don’t think of him like that!” Barry blurted out the last half of the sentence in response to her accusing stare, which didn’t help his case.

“He knows about you, right? Who you are?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he knew right away.” Iris’ brow pinched and he winced. “Which…sounds worse now that I said it out loud.”

“Concerns about _that_ aside, he doesn’t care about your royal blood?”

“Well, no – ”

“Then I don’t see how you could think he doesn’t like you.” She held up a hand to stop his oncoming protest and lowered her voice. “Politics and potential feelings aside, if he wants to see you for _you_ and not your crown, don’t you think that means something?”

Barry’s stomach flipped. He didn’t want to think about those implications, even if she didn’t know the full circumstances of how he had run into Len in the first place. For all she knew, Len was some man he had met in the marketplace in town when he was out with Joe whom he’d made plans to see again. He hated lying to Iris, but he couldn’t tell her about the deal he had with Len. If he was going to figure out what those voices meant, whether good or bad, he needed to do it without Len in the dungeons.

Len could take care of himself, obviously. Though Barry did plan on asking him about those bruises he'd made a poor attempt at hiding. He wasn't convinced that it was nothing, no matter how many times Len insisted on dropping the subject.

No man was that prepared to fight to his death, to run for his life at the first sign of danger, without some backup plan that didn’t involve Barry’s constant interference.

Part of him itched at the thought, and he could feel the crackles of yellow beginning to flare to lift at his fingertips, thankfully aimed away from Iris in case they did burst.

“Maybe,” he said lamely. He couldn’t help but watch as Iris’ smile widened, heart sinking as he pictured the look on Len’s face when he’d drawn his sword in that clearing.

No, no matter how much Iris wanted to believe it, no matter how badly Barry believed Len was a good person…

It likely meant nothing.

Besides, they both had more important matters to worry about. Barry couldn’t go looking for clues and trails of breadcrumbs where there were none.

 

***

 

“You,” Lewis sneered, “are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?”

Len knew better than to disagree, but he didn’t feel an ounce of luck in his bones, not after the day he’d had.

The guards hadn’t been willing to let him go, unsurprisingly. After witnessing his chase through the marketplace and getting caught red-handed with the slippers, the captain had been all for hauling him off to the dungeons. The look on his face when Len had said his name as they were dragging him away didn’t earn him any brownie points either; every guard who’d worked with Lewis knew what kind of man his father was. The captain probably thought it was no surprise that his son turned out just the same. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and all that.

It wasn’t as if Len could deny what had happened or explain that his father had forced him to obey him. Part of him wanted to, just to be contrary or to see whether someone would defend him, but there was no use in trying. No one would’ve believed him even if he had told the truth. Or, as much of the truth as he could. He couldn’t exactly explain the whole “obedience curse” to anyone unless they figured it out for themselves.

So, he’d wound up staying quiet and didn’t fight when the captain read him his offenses, explaining how long he’d likely be in for.

Len was grateful Lisa wasn’t there, that she’d listened to him and run straight home. She would’ve barged in if she could and tried to fight the guards herself, even with the danger of Lewis.

She’d be better off without him there. Without Len being yanked about like a marionette thanks to Lewis, she could escape, get help, or start a new life. Lewis wouldn’t be any match against her magic.

The thought almost made him smile.

Almost.

Strangely, though, the captain didn’t usher him off to the dungeons. Len had been held in the village center for nearly two hours before one of the guards came in to speak to the captain, whispering in his ear. The scowl that crossed his face didn’t spell anything good for his sake, nor when he aimed it directly at Len, as if he had committed further treason while unable to leave the room they’d been interrogating him in.

“Let him go,” the captain muttered gruffly, a shadow passing over his features.

The guards beside Len looked at one another in confusion but when no other orders came, they unchained him from the table. Len didn’t dare move and kept his eyes on the captain as he walked over.

“You’re free to go.” He sounded irritated now.

“Had a change of heart?”

The captain’s scowl deepened. “This is your first offense. You’ve been vouched for. Don’t let it happen again.”

Vouched for? Who had spoken for him? It couldn’t have been Lewis. Had Lisa snuck out of the house after all? His chest tightened.

When he stepped outside, however, no one was there.

The villagers eyed him suspiciously as he passed, some with more understanding in their eyes. Perhaps they thought it was desperation too, his first misdemeanor as a thief. It wasn’t as if Len was about to correct them.

Returning home to find Lewis waiting for him, his face red with fury… That wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have.

Lewis stepped closer, eyes narrowed as he flicked his gaze over Len with ill-disguised disgust. The beer must have run its course; there was no slur, no bloodshot stare this time. “You got nerve to waltz right back in here. What, they decide you weren’t worth it?”

“Apparently not.” The red on his cheeks darkened.

Yeah, he wasn’t dealing with this right now. Len moved toward the stairs, ignoring his father’s seething. If he wanted to throw a fit, fine by him. Lewis had caused him enough trouble for one afternoon.

Len needed to rethink his strategy. What happened in the market shouldn’t have gone down in the first place. He’d been too careless, even with distracting the drunk from his sister. This was going to have consequences. Another job, maybe longer than the trip to Star Kingdom had been, more risks of getting caught.

Now the guards knew his face too. He wasn’t going to be able to hide from them easily, or from his own neighbors in Amplewick anymore.

There were too many variables to consider, to plan around and reevaluate his options. Maybe it was time to contact some old friends.

“The hell do you think you’re going?” Lewis snarled.

“Lisa upstairs?”

Lewis’ lip curled as he scoffed. “The brat’s just fine. Taught her a lesson, she’s in her room.” Len briefly entertained the idea of charging the old man, knocking out his yellowing teeth for laying a hand on Lisa.

His fists twitched and Lewis’ eyes flitted toward the movement lazily before meeting his glare. “You’re not going up there yet. You and I – we’re gonna have a nice _chat_ , Leo.”

Len’s limbs wouldn’t obey him, not daring to inch onto the first step of the stairs like he longed to. “Don’t think we have anything else to discuss.”

“Oh? We got nothing, huh?”

Len tried to struggle against the dull ache in his veins, but the curse surged like a tidal wave, keeping him frozen. Damn Lewis. “What else do we have to say? You’re going to keep doing this, aren’t you? Upping the ante and not bothering to stop and think about the risks.”

“Risks?” Lewis made his way over, shaking his head as if he were truly disappointed in his son. “Look at you, all high and mighty. You think I got this far without planning ahead?”

“You’re having too much fun. Getting sloppy, disregarding the guards, the timing, all of it,” Len hissed. “You don’t need any of it. Got more than enough gold to hightail it out of here.”

“It’s called saving. Gotta store the payout for later. Besides, thought you liked Central. Called it home, didn’t you?” The twist of his lips turned mean. “Or is it that freak that’s keeping you here?”

“Not quite.”

Lewis opened his mouth but a harsh rap of knuckles on the front door forced them both to freeze (well, not that Len _could_ freeze any more than he already was, but still).

They never got visitors. No one ventured out this far in the woods, not when the path was hidden mostly by vegetation and mud from the recent rainstorms.

“You told ’em everything, huh?” Lewis growled. “That better not be the guards outside my door – ”

“I didn’t say a damn thing – ”

The knock came again, harder this time. A flicker of unease danced in Lewis’ eyes.

“Go see who it is.” Len jerked forward as the curse pulled him to the window, fighting the urge to throw some choice words his father’s way. He moved the tattered curtain back a few inches to peer outside.

It was Ramon, bouncing on his heels with his teeth worrying his lower lip. He’d been unable to warn Ramon about Lisa running off – he had to be here to check in on her.

_Lisa, you goddamn liar._

“Well? Tell me.”

Len sighed. “Cisco Ramon.”

Without looking, he could feel his father’s fury rekindling. There was no way he didn’t recognize the surname. “That _mage_? What the hell does he want?”

He couldn’t tell Lewis about Lisa’s rendezvous. Lewis had already hurt her before he’d arrived, he couldn’t risk more opportunities for him to discipline his sister.

“Don’t know.”

“Another freak,” Lewis spat, getting fired up as he paced toward the living room. “Of course you’re attracting more of ’em.”

Len moved away from the window, eyeing the door. He had to tell Ramon to leave.

The idiot knocked again, and a vein started to pop forth on Lewis’ forehead. It would’ve been an amusing sight had the pool of dread not begun collecting in his gut.

“That’s it. Answer the door, Leo.” Len fought the searing pain in his bones, his feet stuttering as the curse attempted to shove him forward. “Tell him we’re not taking any visitors from his kind. He’s not welcome. And we don’t need an abomination poking around the house.”

The dread solidified. He couldn’t do that, no. Ramon was the closest to being Lisa’s first friend, outside of the girls she’d met in school. But they’d lost touch over the years as Lewis’ leash on her shortened, cutting her off from most communication with people outside the house. She hadn’t met any friends – any _real_ friends – in a long time.

As much as he disliked the mage, ruining that happiness for her wasn’t an option.

“Pissing off the neighbors already?” Len snarked, biting his tongue as the pain worsened. His legs were going to start trembling soon if he didn’t give in.

Lewis didn’t seem to appreciate the half-hearted joke. “You will tell him _now_.”

Len nearly fell on his face as his legs shot out from underneath him, taking him those crucial steps to the door, his hand in motion by the time he got his wits about him. The heat was excruciating the longer he struggled to resist.

Relief flashed on Ramon’s face for only a split-second as the door opened, his face scrunching up with uncertainty. “Oh. It’s you.” Pink bloomed on his cheeks. “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything b – but, uh, I… I saw what happened in the market. Thought you were arrested. Are you… Are you alright?”

A faint metallic taste filled his mouth. Fuck, he’d bitten his tongue too hard. “Peachy.”

Whatever Ramon saw on his face wasn’t convincing enough. “Well, alright. Look, is – is Lisa there? I want to talk to her for a minute. Is she doing fine after…well, what happened?”

“We’re…” The magic heaved like a swaying ship on raucous waters deep in his gut. “We’re not taking any visitors from…your kind.”

“You…what?”

It was no use. The curse was too strong; Len felt like he was going to be sick. “We don’t need an – an abomination poking around the house. You’re not welcome.”

The color of Ramon’s cheeks faded. He stared back in bewilderment. Len could feel his father’s eyes boring into the back of his head.

A nervous laugh escaped Ramon, dark hair falling into his eyes as he held up a hand. “Ha. I think I – I think I get what’s happening here. This is a test, right? Big brother trying to scare me off?”

“You heard me the first time.”  _If you care about her, you’ll leave._

Ramon’s frown deepened, his mouth opening and closing much like a fish thrust without warning onto land, but Len didn’t wait to hear a response. He shut the door in the mage’s face with a bang.

Len screwed his eyes shut.

Lisa was going to have a difficult time forgiving him for this one.

“On that note,” Lewis said, his cheery tone grating on Len’s last nerve, “I think it’s time for dinner, don’t you, Leo?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having far too much fun with these chapter summaries, in case you couldn't tell.
> 
> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	7. Not Just Make-Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new page is turned and Cisco doesn’t take no for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue is a bitch. It took me forever to word this chapter the way I wanted, so bear with me. If anyone'd be happy to help me hash out dialogue for the upcoming chapters, I'd love you forever.

Lisa set the cold rag in the basin and flopped back onto the bed, wincing as the cut on her shoulder prickled with the movement. She was tempted to creep out the door, and check on what was happening. It’d been all-too-quiet since Lewis had left her in her room, though the front door opening a couple times had permeated the silence. She assumed Lenny was home, likely getting ragged on for whatever he had done to incur their father’s wrath.

Not a pleasant route to dwell on when she was left alone with her thoughts.

She hoped her brother was alright. The silence, aside from the muffled muttering downstairs from Lewis, was making her skin crawl. It wouldn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

At least, she hoped.

Lenny hadn’t come up yet.

Maybe dinner had happened without her. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

She wrinkled her nose at the splotches of red staining the rag. All the dried blood was scrubbed off her collarbone by now, but the jagged cut still stung. That was going to leave a nasty scar.

Thankfully, it hadn’t taken long for her to pick the remaining shards of glass out of the skin. Years of patching up Lenny had done her some good after all.

Her stomach growled and Lisa heaved a sigh. There was no use in sneaking downstairs if their father was still up. The rage etched into his features had frightened her earlier; Lenny must have well and truly pissed him off.

Lisa had a great deal of faith in Lenny, always had since she was a child with little means of defending herself against their father’s wrath (not without exposure of her magic, of course). He tended to court danger like an old friend. She remembered feeling stunned at how easily he shrugged aside Lewis’ blows and belittlements even after she knew of the curse, wondering how he could act so calm in the face of punishment he hardly deserved, often for her sake.

Sometimes she still felt that way, even now as a grown woman locked in her room like a toddler in the aftermath of a colossal tantrum. She contemplated summoning a flurry of bees or vines to coil themselves like dragon tails around Lewis, squeezing until he choked on his own filth.

Lisa forced herself to sit up. She couldn’t sit around and wait for Lenny. He was going to ask about the wound from the bottle if she didn’t cover it properly.

Asking him about his punishment wouldn’t be a fun conversation for either of them.

Lewis’ insistence on not separating them for bed – which made for awkward moments when Lisa was younger that neither her nor Lenny cared to repeat – meant they both, as grown adults, wound up sharing the bedroom. Most of the time, it wound up working out since Lenny was off on heists for their father and she had the room to herself. Neither of them minded sharing, since they’d grown used to it and the only other bedroom in the house belonged to Lewis, but sleeping in the same room as her brother made for few secrets among them. Whether Lewis had meant to irritate them by refusing to grant them another room was unclear. The plan would have backfired spectacularly either way.

It also meant what few clothes they had were crammed into one wardrobe (since Lewis was all for convenience and “saving money”). Which made for great blackmail stories about Lenny accidentally wearing her blouse for half a day before Lisa recognized the shade of blue as her own.

Now, however, she pulled a white blouse out of the wardrobe and over her head. The injury still hurt but she grit her teeth and pushed through the sparks of pain.

A startled thump against the window behind her made her heart race. Lisa yanked down the hem of the blouse and whipped around.

To his credit, Cisco had the decency to look apologetic when she marched over and threw open the window, taking mind to duck as he nearly lost his grip on the undergrowth crawling up the side of the house.

“Hello.” He sent her a sheepish grin, to which Lisa stared down at him blankly. “Before you get angry, just know, well, in my defense…” He paused, his cheeks reddening the longer she stayed silent. Shoulders drooping, he shut his eyes with a groan. “Yeah, this looks bad. Uh, would you believe me if I told you I tried the front door first?”

Lisa crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to feel embarrassed. Honestly, _men_. “If you’re trying to be romantic, you’d be better off climbing back down, honey.”

“I swear I didn’t see anything!”

“That’s what they all say.”

Cisco winced. “I’m serious!” He pulled himself up onto his elbows on the ledge of the window as Lisa eyed him warily. She wondered why he didn’t simply use magic to climb in or to open the window. “I’m sorry about barging in like this, but I need to talk to you. Your brother turned me away at the door earlier, so I thought I’d come back later. Figured it’d be easier to find _you_ instead of trying to have a decent conversation with him.”

Lenny turned him away? That was news to her. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d been able to check in from upstairs while she was stuck pacing the bedroom.

“You were gone before I could tell you in the village,” Cisco continued, panting as he adjusted his grip on the ledge. “Which – not gonna lie – was a little rude of you. Where did you even go? Then there was that whole mess with your brother, so I was going to come back later but apparently he got off easy – ”

“Got off easy?” Lisa frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“With the guards, I mean. He wasn’t arrested for very long, it seemed.”

An iron fist squeezed around Lisa’s heart. She could feel the churning of magic in the air, tingling in her bones as she tried to keep a straight face. “He was _what_?”

Cisco’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Caught stealing a pair of slippers in the market, from what I’ve heard. Didn’t he tell you?”

No wonder Lenny had yet to show his face. Lewis had to be teaching him a lesson or perhaps forcing him to stay put.

Her brother was foolish on occasion, but never like this.

Lenny didn’t get caught. He’d _never_ been caught in all his years of stealing and traveling to various towns and kingdoms. If there had been a scene in the village today – for something as menial as _slippers_ , nonetheless, when he was supposed to be stalling their father –

Her nails dug into the skin of her arms as she bit back the seething thunder roiling around her insides. Cisco was still staring at her with an odd expression. She didn’t know what emotion was written across her face but it couldn’t have been anything close to amiable.

This mess had Lewis’ grimy fingers crawling all over it. She just knew it.

And he’d punished _her_ for Lenny’s failure.

“I’ll take that as a hard _no_ ,” Cisco said slowly. “But, uh, would you mind letting me up? I promise I’ll tell you all about it – and what I wanted to tell you before. It won’t take more than a few minutes. Hopefully.”

She shouldn’t. Lewis might be downstairs, still fumbling in the kitchen, but who knew where Lenny was or whether he was trapped down there and in trouble. Neither would be happy to see Cisco, especially if Lenny had turned him away earlier for whatever reason.

However, what happened wasn’t Cisco’s fault.

His fingers were starting to turn white from his trembling grip on the ledge.

Lisa swallowed the lump rising in her throat. There’d be time to interrogate her brother and weigh the consequences of her actions later.

She reached down and seized Cisco under his arms, which prompted a short yelp from him before he took the hint and grabbed her shoulders. Lisa hoped her wince came off more from the struggle to lift him into the room than her newfound injury. Adjusting her hands to his waist helped steady him as his knees wobbled.

Cisco leaned back against the wall and closed the window gently. His hands were shaking still, but he seemed alright. Lisa realized he wore leather stripes over his shoulders as well and – no, those weren’t stripes, they led to a _bag_ resting on his back. It looked like it was filled to the brim, though of what she couldn’t tell.

“Thank you. You have no _idea_ how slippery those vines are.”

“We do have a front door,” she couldn’t help but tease.

“And get told off again by your brother about how I’m ‘an abomination’?” He huffed and shifted his weight. “Yeah, I’ll take my chances any day with those vines over him.”

Her amusement dissolved. “What?”

“That’s what he said when I asked to come in. Among other not-so-fun things.”

Lenny could be harsh, but he wasn’t _that_ cruel to Cisco. Distrust was one thing, hostility was another entirely.

That roiling anger building in her threatened to return.

“I’ll talk with him about coming off strong,” she said, forcing a smile. “I am sorry for that.”

Cisco waved a hand and pushed off the wall, looking around the bedroom. Her spine tingled as he brushed past her side. “It’s fine. I’ve heard worse, believe me. I mean, it’s _not_ fine, but…well, you know.” His gaze dropped to the knapsack Lenny brought with him, sitting in the far corner of the room. The gloom that passed over his face was disheartening. He really did wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I’m not defending his words or his actions. They’re inexcusable at best.”

“I understand. Really, it’s fine. He doesn’t seem like a prejudiced man.” He crossed by her door and she suppressed the urge to tell him to keep still. She couldn’t allow Lewis to discover another reason to punish her brother. “I get the sense he’s a little overprotective, though. Even if he has nothing to worry about.”

“Of course. Aren’t all brothers?”

“Did you know he was a thief too?”

Lisa’s smile fell. Something tight twisted inside her, not quite the storm of anger from before but not a pleasant feeling either.

For all her brother’s worrying over magic and Cisco’s ill intentions, the real suspicion that wormed its way into Cisco’s mind had nothing to do with her after all. Irony at its finest.

“How big was the incident in the market?”

Cisco frowned, casting a speculative glance her way. “Pretty big. All the guards in Amplewick went after him.” He bit his lip. “You didn’t answer my question, though.”

Lisa suppressed a sigh. “Lenny may be a jerk but he’s not a bad guy.”

She wondered if he’d expected the confirmation; he stopped on the other side of the bed, something too quick to name crossing his face. “There are a lot of witnesses in Amplewick saying otherwise.” A slight turn of his head and his gaze met hers.

She didn’t know what he was looking for. Guilt? Signs of bluffing?

“He doesn’t take anything from the marketplace,” she insisted. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. As far as she knew, he’d only stolen outside of the village or from those who were wealthier than the impoverished people living in Amplewick. Until now, of course. “It was likely a misunderstanding.”

Cisco hesitated. “He stole a pair of slippers and ran. That’s all I heard happened before they arrested him. I’m not trying to accuse anyone.” He raised his hands defensively. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

“Then you of all people know how quickly false rumors can spread.”

It was a low blow but Lisa was certain of her brother’s innocence. Lenny was careful and knew not to take risks around people they knew or in open areas with witnesses like the market. He was a better thief than some pickpocket who grabbed a pair of slippers and ran for his life in broad daylight.

Cisco’s expression only twisted for a moment before he averted his gaze. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a few stray locks falling in his eyes. “You’re right. You know him best, I guess. Just…” Cisco turned back with a sigh. “People aren’t always who they seem to be.”

There was a lilt to his tone that caused her fingers to twitch. “You’re not talking about Lenny anymore.”

“I’m not,” he confirmed, sounding melancholier than he had all evening. It appeared as if he were about to say something else before he thought better of it.

“Does this have anything to do with your knapsack?”

“In part, yes.” Cisco laid a hand on the wood of the bedframe, as if to steady himself. “I… I won’t be around Amplewick for a while. I have to make a trip – an important one – on my own, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You’re acting as if you won’t be back for years.”

“I’m planning on staying until the end of the month at the very least.”

“Hardly years, then,” she said, growing confused.

Cisco looked away. “Worst case scenario, I’ll be staying indefinitely.” His fingers fluttered over the oak of the bedframe much like his own nerves darting across his face.

She wasn’t sure why her heart sank. Part of her - the bitter, cynical voice in the back of her mind that reminded her uncannily of her brother’s – wasn’t terribly shocked by the news. After all, he had seemed distracted as of late. More anxious and less teasing.

It wasn’t as if she had been expecting him to stay, what with all the muttering he’d done toward the regent and the laws of the kingdom and magic itself, how there were few who would listen to the rantings and complaints from mages and fae alike, and it was a right injustice to everything magic stood for. He’d be a good teacher if he had anyone willing to learn.

None of the villagers approved of his magic or his presence. It was only a matter of time before the glares evolved into sneering and violence. Cisco had every right to leave.

A smaller, more selfish and petulant part of her didn’t want him to go.

She couldn’t help but wonder whether it was their recent talks, her lending an ear and occasional advice, that led to his decision.

“Why all the secrets, then?” Lisa asked instead, straightening her posture. “Just how important is this _trip_ , Cisco?”

Cisco studied her for a long moment. “Have I ever… Have I ever told you about my visions?”

A strange change in subject. She walked closer to the edge of the bed as he sat across from her. There was something worn and drawn in his eyes, like he’d been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years, that made her ache. “What kind of visions are we talking about?”

He let out a nervous chuckle. “The, uh, future kind?”

Lisa blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well,” Cisco sighed, “they’re less _vision-like_ and closer to a series of images flashing through my mind at breakneck speeds? I can’t see anything concrete, only possibilities – ”

“Hold on.” Lisa held up a hand. “Since when have you been able to _see the future_?”

“The whole time?”

“The _whole time_?” Her eyes narrowed as his ears steadily turned pinker by the minute. “You said you worked with potion-making and the occasional spell! All this time you’ve been talking about magic theories when you’re able to see the _future_ – ”

“Again, they’re only possibilities, not set in stone, it’s not an exact science – ”

“ – and you didn’t think to mention this until _now_?”

“I didn’t know how you’d react!” Cisco cried. “In case you haven’t noticed, people aren’t particularly friendly toward mages. And even without prejudice, they’d still hound me day and night asking questions about who they’d marry and whether the silks they wanted to buy would arrive at a cheaper price next summer and other ridiculous things like that.”

“And yet the many conversations we’ve had on the subject gave no indication I wouldn’t be frightened off by you telling me this,” she said flatly.

“I – Look, I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t important at the time.”

“Well, what makes it so important now? Why tell me before you leave?”

His expression sobered. “Because if I don’t, people will die.”

Lisa’s breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain,” Cisco said, sounding genuinely contrite, “not that I wouldn’t if I could. Talking too much about the future, even with mere possibilities of it at stake, usually increases the likelihood of it coming true. I’ve already talked about it too much to others – not that it helped.” His face scrunched up with distaste. She couldn’t help but think the sight adorable. “But I have to find a way to prevent this… _thing_ from happening. Terrible things are coming to the whole _kingdom_ if I don’t. I… I don’t have much of a choice. I have to do this.”

And she’d thought _her_ magic was frightening enough on a good day. “Why are you telling me this, then? Why not someone who can help you stop whatever is coming?”

Cisco smiled, sad and strained like he was being yanked by both ends in a fierce tug-of-war. “You’re the first person who’s actually listened to me. Hell, my own family stopped tuning out my claims of future possibilities years ago. Not just that but you’re smart and kind and you don’t mind my sense of humor or when I ramble and…” He looked down, fingers playing with the seam of the quilt on the bed. “If this wasn’t important, I’d ask you to come, but I don’t want to uproot your life. I mean, I’m sure it’ll be dangerous and I can’t ask you to come on a whim if it turns out to be nothing, which would – ”

“Wait. You’d ask me to come with you?” Lisa didn’t mean for her voice to come out soft, her balance sent off-kilter, but it caused him to peek up at her from under his lashes. Cisco nodded shyly.

“It sounds crazy, I know, but I feel like I can trust you.”

She swallowed hard. The idea of accepting and running off into the night with Cisco leading her far away from the village - far from Lewis, far from curses and magic she was too terrified to wield – maybe even to the outskirts of Central given his grave tone, struck a harsh chord in her.

It was what she’d wanted from the beginning, was it not? To convince Cisco to teach her how to control her magic at the very least? He didn’t seem like he’d judge her faeness unfairly if he knew, and with his help, surely they could find a way to free her brother from his curse.

A bubble of hope began to rise in her chest.

“Cisco, I – ”

Footsteps, hard and heavy, rang out on the stairs and the moment shattered. Lisa’s heart jumped to her throat as she scrambled away from the bed.

They’d been too loud. Or perhaps it had been long enough that Lenny’s punishment had ended. Or –

“Lisa,” Lewis called, the slur barely noticeable as his voice reached them through the door. “We’ve got a surprise for you.”

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting rid of Cisco.

“Who’s that?” the mage asked, head cocked to the side as he tried to listen closer.

“No one you’re going to meet tonight.” She seized him by both wrists and tugged him toward the window, shushing him for his soft protest. There was nowhere to hide in the bedroom, aside from under the bed or in the wardrobe, but neither places were comfortable and like hell would she grant him front row seats to an evening performance starring her father’s temper. “I’m sorry, I appreciate the offer, but you need to go.”

“Go? I just got here – ”

“I know, but now isn’t a good time so you need to leave the same way you came in.”

Lewis laughed, clearly bemused by her lack of response and what it meant. She tore her hands away from Cisco to hurry with the window. “Lisa, are you awake?”

“Wait, is that your _father_?” Cisco’s expression fell, but he still didn’t look nearly as concerned as she felt. “Oh, shit, he’s not overprotective too, is he?”

“Not quite,” she muttered under her breath. The latch on the window gave way easily; she threw it open and turned to face Cisco. “You have to go. _Now_.”

“Whoa, slow down,” he said. “Your father can’t be that intimidating. I’m sure he’ll understand that nothing happened. We were just talking.”

She wanted to laugh, hysterical giggles building on her tongue even as her chest tightened. Her words sounded distant to her own ears, like she was speaking underwater. “If he finds you here, he won’t listen to a word you say. Start climbing down.”

“Lisa – ”

“Cisco _, please_ ,” she hissed, grabbing his arms and pulling him toward the open window. His eyes shot in the direction her vice-like grip, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, he needed to _leave_. “I need you to trust me and do as I say.”

There was no time for the window. She could hear him outside the door. Lewis sounded close, possibly clearing the last few steps to the top of the stairs.

Real worry began to bloom across Cisco’s face. “Lisa, what’s wrong, your hands are – ”

“You need to hide, there’s no time to explain!” she snapped, tightening her hold as her ears popped and –

Lisa’s stomach bottomed out. She swayed forward, nearly toppling onto Cisco as her insides burst into a flurry of motion, terror seizing her heart with clawed hands –

A brilliant flash of gold filled her vision and she stumbled, managing to brace herself against the closest bedpost as she squinted, blinking away spots. Her foot caught something thick and she gritted her teeth, biting back a curse as the bedroom door flew open.

“Ah, you are awake.” Lisa faced the doorway, unable to suppress the welling fright that must have been written all over her face. Lewis’ gaze was cold, scanning the room. He had to notice the open window, her unsteady balance as she struggled to stand upright, and his mouth curled in what had to be some sick form of delight.

She felt as if the room was spinning, as if she’d been thrown off a cliff and told to fly with torn wings. Using her magic had never felt like this before. She prayed she didn’t get sick – her father wouldn’t excuse or treat sudden illness, no matter how much he claimed to care for his children.

Against her will, her eyes found the spot Cisco had stood moments ago. All she saw was a thick tome, decorated with gold accents that she must’ve tripped over.

Cisco had vanished into thin air.

“Your brother and I were having a talk downstairs,” Lewis continued, sneering in the face of her mounting panic. _How had Cisco disappeared so quickly?_ Somehow she doubted he was hiding under the bed. “Said we might need to make a few changes around here.”

“Changes?”

“Nothing major. But since your brother did an _exceptional_ job – ” She wanted to wipe the cruel gleam in his eyes away with her fist “ – I’ll have him explain it to you.”

Lewis reached behind him and she realized she hadn’t registered _two_ pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Lisa’s breath hitched as Lenny was shoved through the doorway. She had to curl her fingers into a ball to suppress the surge of bile.

The blank mask he wore betrayed nothing, but she could see how hard his jaw was clenched, as if he were physically restraining himself like she was to avoid knocking their father flat on his ass. There were no bruises or scrapes on him from what skin she could see, but that brought no reassurance. If Lewis hadn’t hurt her brother, the damage could be hidden under his clothing, somewhere out of sight where no one could question Lenny.

Or there were no injuries and that meant the situation was far worse than she feared.

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased,” Lewis chuckled. Her brother’s expression faltered as their father brushed past him. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door shut with a _bang_ , laughter growing muffled through the wood. Lenny stood stock-still even as Lewis’ muttering and chuckling faded down the stairs.

Lisa didn’t dare breathe a sigh of relief. She spun on her heel, ignoring the way her stomach churned as she ducked her head to check under her bed. Nothing.

“Lisa.” Lenny’s voice cracked; he hadn’t moved an inch since Lewis had left. “I need to – ”

She pulled herself to her feet. “Not now, Lenny.” Where could Cisco have gone? Whatever her magic had done, it couldn’t have taken him far.

 _Unless it sent him away from the house_ , the tentatively optimistic part of her brain chimed in.

“Listen – ”

“Be quiet for a moment. Please.” His mouth swung shut but he looked more pained and curious than relieved. She hoped he’d forgive her for the demand, but she needed to focus. With panic resting heavy in her lungs and Lewis’ cruel words hovering between them, she couldn’t think straight.

Magic responded to emotions, that much she knew. She’d wanted to hide Cisco, just for a while.

How could he have vanished, then? All that was left was –

Lisa’s gaze swiveled to the thick book she’d stumbled over. The one that hadn’t been there when she was dragging the mage to the window before.

The nausea returned and she pressed a hand to her mouth firmly as she walked closer, picking up the book. She could’ve sworn she felt a prickle, a little buzz underneath her skin when she examined the cover.

There was no title, no author’s name scribbled anywhere in sight. In her haze, Lisa hadn’t seen the opaque oval embedded in the center of the tome. Small gems of ruby and topaz lined the border of the mirror-like substance, glinting in the candlelight.

It couldn’t be.

“Cisco?” she whispered, feeling foolish as Lenny’s eyebrows rose.

“Where the _hell_ am I?” Lisa jerked back, nearly dropping the book as Cisco’s face blurred into existence within the oval on the cover, eyes wide as he looked around. “What happened to my body? Everything went dark and I could hear voices and – ”

She was definitely going to be sick. The hand flew back over her mouth and she leaned against the bedpost, meeting her brother’s stunned gaze. Larger bursts of magic were a no-no, so it seemed.

Such as turning the closest thing you had to a friend into a _fucking book._

“ – I don’t who that was, maybe it was your father, I don’t know, but I couldn’t see anything so it’s not like – ”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said weakly. She wasn’t sure whether she was directing the words to Cisco or Lenny. Both. Neither, perhaps.

His jaw working again, Lenny walked toward Lisa slowly, as if he were afraid of sending her into another dizzying spell of magic.

“Lise, what did you _do_?”

“ – and another thing: since when can you do _magic_?” Cisco exclaimed. “You never mentioned anything about being a mage!”

Lisa shut her eyes and lowered her hand, struggling to breathe through her nose. “That’s because I’m not. I’m fae, Cisco.”

“You’re… _what?!_ ”

Lenny’s accusing stare coupled with Cisco’s gaping expression and the woozy heat working its way through her body were too much. Lisa shoved Cisco into her brother’s arms and thoroughly emptied the contents of her mostly-empty stomach onto the bedroom floor.

 

***

 

Despite his boots, he moved through the corridors on quiet feet. Occasionally, he deigned to pause to avoid the servants’ eyes – not that they spotted him often with how easily he blended into the shadows, but the precaution was necessary. The moon was rising high outside the windows of the castle and most were heading off to finish work or to bed. Preparations had everyone on edge, so it seemed.

The royals weren’t up and about, and there was no sign of the guards at this hour. A smirk climbed onto his features; the latter were no doubt distracted by his diversion near the stables.

Fools. All of them.

He slunk to the first door on his left and wasted no time after hearing the faint answer, pulling the door shut carefully behind him.

The process had already begun.

No one had ventured into the late King and Queen’s quarters for years, not unless they were ordered to dust the furniture. The regent had declared it a shrine to them. It was just as well – there was no one who wanted to sleep in the chambers where both had been murdered over a decade before. Even the prince didn’t dare detour into his parents’ room.

Only a sparse few knew it was still in use.

He remained silent as he moved further into the room. He’d made the mistake of interrupting once, back when he hadn’t known better, and nearly got his head torn off.

The chosen one, a redhead this time, hovered above the massive bed with her hands clutching her throat, her fingers twitching at half-speed as her eyes bulged. The wings, thin and silky like gossamer, were spread to their full length around her, immobile as they shimmered in the evening light. He could never tell whether it was through their own accord or the magic’s that they were held like this, feet grazing the bedspread as inaudible pleas danced in their teary stares. Either way, there was something fascinating about the pulsing veins, the choked-off noises that squeezed their way past the knot in their throats.

Standing by the edge of the bed, wreathed in a rainbow of auras and magic he dared not breach himself was the caster. It was impossible to make out the man’s form through the magic cocooning itself around his body like a python curling around its prey. If he noticed how the other came to a stop a few feet away, he gave no indication.

Not for the first time, he wondered what the caster must see in the kaleidoscope of colors. He’d heard magic was addictive, that its whispers would haunt your dreams until you gave into its wishes, but the whirlwind around the mage was the most he ever saw of magic itself.

Hunger nagged at his gut. It’d been happening more and more lately, the desire to reach out and touch the brilliant light resonating within his bones. The absence of magic, of life, of…well, _anything_ in him ached at times like a broken bone.

Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be suffering for much longer.

He must have arrived late, for the spazzing motion of her limbs came to an abrupt halt, skin gaunt as she toppled backward onto the bed. The fae remained still with her eyes stuck in their huge, petrified state.

“What news?” The voice came out raspy, as it always did when the spell ended.

“Ogres are closing in near the border. The people are growing restless.” He turned his gaze away from the fae toward the figure. “Some villages have already been attacked, but I don’t know how many lives have been lost.”

The mage nodded curtly, the glow around him diminishing as he straightened to his full height. He was grateful; it was hard to have a conversation with someone when you couldn’t stare long for fear of going blind. “Anything else?”

“There have been fewer reports of fae and elvenfolk in the kingdom. I doubt they have disappeared – likely hiding, knowing them – but there’s been talk of extinction.”

He could see a frigid smile spread over the mage’s face even as he faced the lifeless body sprawled on the bed. “We’ll have time to hunt the rest down. Besides, I doubt they’d miss out on the prince’s coronation. Speaking of which, how is he?”

“He’s been sneaking out of the castle more and more as of late. Neither West has been accompanying him either.”

“Do you know where he’s been heading?”

“The forest again. The one closest to Amplewick.”

Satisfaction settled in his gut as the mage glanced at him curiously, eyes flickering a bright red before they returned to their usual pigment. It had been decades since he’d been able to feel the cold, yet he swore a shiver ran down his spine the longer he stared.

The mage tilted his head. “He’s hiding something.”

“More like some _one_.”

“Oh?”

He dared to take a step forward. He felt the other watch him closely, always cautious. There was no reason for him to attack – nor to be foolish enough to try, given the displays of magic he’d seen a minute before.

Without the other, he’d still be rotting beneath the earth.

“I believe,” Zolomon said, baring his teeth in semblance of a smile, “that the prince is growing… _distracted._ It may be time to remind him of his responsibilities.”

 

***

 

“So,” Ramon said, ignoring the glare Len sent his way, “I suppose it’d be rude to demand an explanation.”

“Very.”

Lisa huffed. The dirty look she was aiming for fell short due to her ashen pallor, and the fact that Ramon was currently sitting in her lap.

Well, if a mage-turned-book _could_ sit.

Len found it difficult to keep his eyes off of the book that now substituted for the mage’s body. Of all the things he’d seen Lisa do over the years, this took the cake for one of the strangest magical accidents she’d caused. It was odd to reconcile the mage he knew with the book resting on his sister’s thigh. Part of him sympathized with Ramon’s confusion and terror; it was hard to find the situation laughable given the circumstances.

Lisa’s panicked outburst itself, however, was no laughing matter. It had taken nearly twenty minutes to maneuver Lisa onto the bed and an extra ten to clean up her upended lunch from earlier. Thankfully, Lewis didn’t appear interested in joining them upstairs, even after the shrill rambling from the former mage.

Which was good, because Len had no idea how he’d manage to spin a story off of…whatever was happening.

“We can’t say nothing. I _did_ turn him into a book.”

“A dream come true, I’m sure.”

Ramon scowled. “Why the hell would I want to be a book? In case you haven’t noticed, I have no arms and legs! How am I supposed to eat? How much of me is still human?”

“I am sorry for that,” Lisa said, looking suitably guilty. “I didn’t mean to turn you into…this.”

“What _did_ you mean to do?”

“Nothing,” Lisa admitted. “I didn’t realize I was using magic until too late.”

Ramon blanched. “You _didn’t realize_ – ”

“If you keep shouting at my sister, I’m dropping you out the window,” Len warned.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but which one of us is a thieving – ”

“ _Enough_!” Len and Ramon turned to Lisa – well, Ramon turned upward as much as he could – who looked downright irritable. Len half-expected to be transformed into a jewelry box under the heat of her anger. “Both of you need to stop yelling before we have worse problems. Cisco, I promise I’ll explain everything but if you keep antagonizing my brother, I _will_ put you in the wardrobe. Lenny, I know you’re concerned, but arguing isn’t going to help anyone. You still need to apologize anyway for what you said to Cisco.”

Ah, right. Ramon must’ve told her about earlier. Len pinched the bridge of his nose. “Technically, that wasn’t my fault.”

“I figured, but I’m still expecting an apology.”

Len glanced at Ramon, whose scowl had simmered to a deep frown. “I…apologize for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Ramon didn’t look appeased but judging by the heavy sigh, he’d accepted Len’s half-hearted effort. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry for _antagonizing_ you.”

Lisa practically beamed and gave Ramon’s cover a light pat. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“ _However_ , I would like to know,” said Len, “why you snuck into the house.”

“I couldn’t go through the front door,” Ramon pointed out as if Len couldn’t see further than the end of his nose.

“So you went through the window?”

“I said no arguing,” Lisa growled.

Ramon looked back up toward Lisa. “Sorry. But, uh, you still haven’t explained the whole fae thing. Which I’m definitely angry about, by the way. Mostly because of the book spell.”

Lisa glanced at Len, but he only lifted an eyebrow. He felt a little vindicated after his concerns about the mage turned out to be valid, though not for the reasons he’d anticipated. But seeing Lisa pull herself together to explain everything did send make him anxious.

“I’m half-fae,” she relented, her shoulders sagging. “Lenny and I had different mothers and mine left me on our doorstep after I was born. I don’t have wings, before you ask – ” Len snorted at how the mage pouted “ – but I, clearly, have magic. I… I can’t always control it.”

Ramon’s expression softened. “Well, that explains why you were so interested in magic. But why didn’t you tell me?”

It was Lisa’s turn to snort. “The same reason you don’t tell anyone about your visions, I’d imagine.”

“Visions?” Len asked.

“Cisco can see the future, Lenny.”

Len looked at the book, but Ramon just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s true. And none of your business.”

Well. Anything was possible, Len supposed.

“None of this explains why you freaked out in the first place, though,” Ramon said, turning his attention back to Lisa. “I couldn’t hear that well after I got transformed, but your father didn’t seem…too bad.”

His sister’s face fell, but she did her best to cover it by plastering a sharp smile on her face. “Let’s just say there’s a reason I told you to hide.”

“Uh, alright? But that doesn’t – ”

“Good.” Lisa moved further back, placing her spine against the headboard as she turned the book over in her hands to get a better view of Ramon’s face. “Now, hold on a moment. I’m sure we can change you back in no time.”

Ramon looked like he wanted to prod at the subject of Lewis more but his desire to become human again seemed to win out. “Be careful. You look like you exhausted yourself after turning me. Don’t overdo it.”

She nodded and shut her eyes. Len moved closer so he could sit on the bed beside her.

Len didn’t know how Ramon had been transformed in the first place, whether he’d crumble into dust like her vines had the first time Len had come home to her using magic or disappear in a puff of smoke, but he made sure not to sit too close to the tome as Lisa lifted Ramon eye level, biting her lip in concentration. There had been enough accidents that she was good at managing to calm herself with happier thoughts. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes, he hoped.

The memory of Lisa throwing up and staggering around the bedroom surfaced traitorously and he shoved it aside.

Five minutes passed in silence. Ramon’s brow knitted together the longer they sat still, watching Lisa’s face redden with effort. Sweat began beading on her forehead and the reminders of Ramon’s warning became dismaying.

A stab of alarm seized Len. “Lisa,” he said as gently as possible, “are you alright?”

She grimaced, her arms falling so Ramon was once again resting in her lap. Her eyes opened and Len tensed at the sheer disappointment reflected back at him.

“I can’t do it. Lenny, I – ” Lisa pushed her curls out of her face and wiped the sweat more savagely than necessary. “I’m trying but it feels like I’m hitting a wall every time I picture Cisco human.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Ramon assured her. “Whatever caused you to change me must’ve drained a lot out of you. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“When?” Lisa demanded. “You were supposed to leave the village tonight. I can’t leave you in my room until I muster the strength to turn you back!”

“Trying to use magic while you’re exhausted isn’t a good idea either, though. You’re only going to hurt yourself if you keep trying tonight.” Ramon winced, perhaps recalling a mistake of his own. “I appreciate you trying, but like I said, you can’t overwork yourself.”

Lisa crossed her arms over her chest. “It was one spell! It shouldn’t be difficult. How can I do something with magic and _not_ be able to undo it?”

“You were panicking pretty badly,” Ramon mused. “Your emotions seem to be tied closely to your connection to magic. Maybe we need to get you back in that environment to figure out what the catalyst was.”

Len glared at him. “Happier thoughts and good memories worked before. I don’t think it’s the environment.”

“ _Either way_ ,” Ramon said, casting an exasperated look toward Len, “bigger spells like transmutation – turning something into something else – take a lot more out of you than simple spells like summoning flowers from thin air. Your hands were _glowing_ , Lisa, and I could definitely feel the vibes you were giving off before I became, well…”

“A real page-turner?” Len drawled. Ramon’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re hilarious.”

“Glad you think so.”

“Cisco,” Lisa said pointedly, drawing their attention back to her once more, “this doesn’t fix the problem. What about your trip? The important quest you had to fulfill?”

Quest? Len looked at Ramon curiously but the latter didn’t seem up to elaborating. His gaze slid away from them both entirely. “It… Well, it doesn’t solve that problem. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do anything as a book. Safe to say, this was _not_ a possibility I saw in my dream.”

“And there’s no one in the village who could fix this?” Len asked. “What about your family?”

Ramon shook his head. “No, they can’t. And not just because they’d laugh at me being turned into a book in the first place. My parents aren’t strong mages – they mostly make potions these days. Even my brother got roped into working with herbs and spices. None of them are serious about working with magic. I’m the strongest one in the family spell-wise, and I’m not saying that to brag.”

Len shut his eyes. “So you’re stuck like this.”

“Basically.”

Wonderful. This was really shaping up to be one of Len’s worst days, from the theft and arrest that afternoon to Lewis’ demands to Cisco Ramon being turned into a book.

The arrest. _Fuck_. He still hadn’t told Lisa what had happened.

That, alongside Lewis’ newest command. Neither of which were going to please his sister.

“Actually,” Lisa said slowly, a smile beginning to spread across her face, “I may know someone who can help us. All of us.”

“What are you talking about?” Len asked with no small amount of suspicion.

Lisa turned to him, and the knowing shine in her eyes was enough for his gut to clench even before she spoke.

“Why, we just need to call on a fae godmother, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I came up with the book puns all on my own, thank you very much.
> 
> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	8. Through the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which squabbling takes center stage and the Snarts kick ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when this chapter was supposed to be a short, somewhat-filler of a chapter. 
> 
> Also! Credit to the wonderful catarinaloss for looking over this chapter for me!

When Barry was younger – back when the King and Queen were still alive, before Iris began training to become a royal guard – he played in the gardens for hours. The servants often snickered when he ran past them every morning, though their intentions were not unkind. Likely they knew where he was headed and what he’d be doing for most of the morning, sending knowing looks toward one another when Iris joined him soon after.

He was never a particularly shy boy, but with few children in the castle and his best friend deferring to him as both friend and superior at times, it was difficult to find playmates. Not that he didn’t enjoy Iris’ company, of course, because he wouldn’t have become the man he was today without Iris West.

But there were hardly any children able to play the same sorts of games with him. Even less so who wouldn’t be ushered away by their parents after he used his magic at all, murmuring distaste under their breath toward the House of Allen.

His parents liked to tease that his first inkling of magic came from the moment he learned to walk - his father had finished feeding him in the dining hall when his mother walked into the room and  whether it was the childish joy of seeing his mother’s smile or his father’s chuckle when he tried to worm his way out of the man’s arms in an attempt to reach her, both said his eyes lit up (quite literally) with glee. Next thing he knew, he was toddling across the room into her arms with a flash of light. The Queen could only laugh at both her child’s delight and her husband’s astonishment.

Barry’s first real memory of magic came from playing in the garden with Iris. He had to be no more than five or six, chasing Iris around the bushes while Wells watched them from afar – Barry vaguely remembered hearing a grumble about “babysitting” but the man had taken his duties in stride even then – when he lost his footing and tripped. There was a sharp ache in his gut as the realization of _oh, I’m falling_ came to pass, and Barry squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the pain, the scraped knees he’d have to explain to his parents.

None of them, not even Wells, managed to contain their surprise as Barry fell instead onto a bed of flower roots shaped suspiciously like a hand, slender earthy digits wrapping around him gently. He couldn’t quite remember what happened next, whether Wells leapt from his bench to rescue him or Iris cried out, but he recalled the murmuring voices clearly. He couldn’t make out what they were saying as they brushed his ears, light as the roots holding him steady. Somehow Barry had had the sense that they were attempting to comfort him, to soothe his rapid-fire heartbeat as if they could feel it through his clothes.

That was always the part of magic Barry wouldn’t be able to bring himself to give up. It sounded odd, drawing joy from the quiet voices he’d never assign names to, but it _was_ soothing to listen to them speak.

(He tried not to dwell on that train of thought these days, nor the similarities regarding the kind caresses he swore he felt after his parents died.)

The whispering did make his heart ache as a boy, though, especially when he first realized only his mother seemed to acknowledge or hear them. Iris’ face of frozen confusion was a memory he’d never forget. While magic had never made him feel lonely, not when he had his mother’s to soothe him when he fell ill or heard faint murmurs of reassurances peeking through that he could just make out, his ability to use it at all was both fascinating and disheartening.

His mother once mentioned how she and her friends made up games when they were younger, like he and Iris did, fooling around with magic as they made rosebuds bloom looking like a rainbow and attempted to turn frogs into handsome men (which had earned them a bit of trouble). Part of him wished she hadn’t said anything about her childhood; Barry knew his mother wouldn’t be able to play with him all the time, not when she and his father were busy, but the idea of friends who would be able to play with magic with him was a concept that scraped a nail painfully through his insides when he gave a garden bench legs and Iris’ excitement was palpable – despite the fact that she couldn’t join in further than playing pretend.

It’d been ages since he’d actually played in the garden. With all the time he’d spent in meetings and fittings and lessons, Barry hadn’t used magic for fun in years, unless he counted his trips outside the castle.

Barry sat down on the closest bench and shut his eyes, suppressing the tempting urge to slump over. Coronation preparations were _exhausting._ How the hell had his father made it through the months leading up to the big day? If he had to try on one more roll of fabric or sit through another meeting about diplomacy, he was going to eat his own crown.

The morning breeze tickled his hair as he rubbed both hands down his face. He felt as if he could feel every curve of the light bags underneath his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep already.”

Barry snorted despite himself. He didn’t bother lowering his hands. “Not yet. Unless you’re offering to escort me to bed, which would be awfully generous of you.”

Iris sat beside him, her knees knocking against his. “If I’m not mistaken, you have another lesson in an hour, so no.”

“You’re no fun,” he moaned. Her soft laugh didn’t deter him from leaning his head against her shoulder. Now that she’d suggested it, a nap sounded heavenly. “How are you not tired too?”

“I got a good night’s sleep. Something _you_ don’t look like you’ve had.” Barry glanced away, feeling her gaze turn sharp with concern.

“I’m just tired.”

“Barr, you look like hell.” Iris shifted to accommodate for his weight and wrapped an arm around his middle. “Just yesterday you were happy and gushing to me about this mysterious admirer of yours – ”

“Again, didn’t describe him like that.”

“ – and now you look as if you haven’t slept for days. Is it the stress? I can try and talk to Wells about it if you want, convince him to lay off for a few days.”

“What, no, that’s not – ” Barry frowned, his chest tightening. “I mean, yes, it’s stressful, but no. I’m not losing sleep over the coronation.” _Not right now anyway._

“Then why the long face?”

Barry was unabashedly grateful for the fact that he didn’t have to look Iris in the eye. Not due to embarrassment – no, he knew she was the last person to judge him for anything.

Still, his gut twisted as the memory of sitting upright in bed, his breathing shallow as energy snapped and sparked off his bare skin like embers of a campfire.

He hadn’t had a nightmare that terrifying since the days following his parents’ murder.

“Last night…” Barry forced himself to fixate on a flower across the garden, any flower. A black-eyed Susan, taller than her sisters in the sea of hedges around them, stuck out like a sore thumb, wobbling precariously as the wind picked up. He wondered if it’d snap clean in two if the weight became too much to bear. “Last night I had a nightmare.”

Iris went rigid against him. “Barry…”

“Not about my parents. Nothing about them specifically,” he assured her quickly, though it didn’t seem to bring her any consolation. The golden petals of the flower fluttered, drawing his gaze back to the black-eyed Susan as he steadied his breathing. “I… Well, I had a strange dream and it kept me awake most of the night. I couldn’t make out what was happening during the beginning: something about running, I think. I had to keep running, I couldn’t stop or something would catch me.”

“What was it?”

He shrugged with the one shoulder not pressed against his friend’s side. “I don’t know. I just remember running forever and then suddenly, I was in the throne room and…” He swallowed around the knot in his throat. “Someone was watching me. In the shadows, someone was – someone was staring at me.”

“Who?” Iris asked.

“I couldn’t see them. I never saw their face, but I felt them watching me, Iris. I don’t know if it was some kind of assassin or the man who – I don’t _know_. But by the time I made it to the throne, they were behind me and a dagger slid through my heart.” Barry tried not to shudder but he almost thought he could feel the cool blade pushing through his chest once more, the pressure building like a wave of nausea.

“He stabbed you?”

“In the heart,” he repeated. Watching the flowers wasn’t helping; Barry still felt ill.

Iris’ hold on his waist grew firm as she turned to look down at him. Her brow drew deeper into a furrow the longer she stared. “And that was the end of the dream?”

“Yeah.” He moved his head from her shoulder but didn’t shy away. Not that he could if he wanted to, given her iron-clad grip. “Maybe you’re right, though. The lessons and lectures… Maybe they’re having more of an effect on me than I thought.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t sound certain.

“I’ll probably talk to Wells about it. The stress, I mean. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

Iris remained quiet. He couldn’t make out the expression on her face, but something about it didn’t ease his anxiety. She looked as uneasy as he felt.

Barry wondered if he had spooked her with all his talk of assassins in the castle. Likely not the conversation she’d been searching to have after a nice breakfast.

“There you two are!” They both turned as Joe headed toward them with a shake of his head. Barry’s heart lightened and he scrambled to his feet, thankful when Iris did the same albeit with less stumbling as he tugged himself out of her grip. “I was told you were off in the kitchens looking over food for the coronation feast.”

Barry smiled sheepishly. “I took a break instead?”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d be all for trying the cook’s desserts.”

“Father, don’t tease,” Iris said, moving to embrace Joe. The murky expression had vanished from her face, which was greatly relieving, her own smile falling into place. “You know he’ll be heading down there soon to try them anyway.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve already approved the food,” Barry shot back. “Even got Wells to sign off on the feast.”

“Whatever you say,” Iris laughed.

“If you’re not waiting on the kitchens then,” Joe said, releasing Iris and casting a look between the two of them that reminded Barry of the stern talking-to he’d gotten the time they’d broken his mother’s favorite vase, “that doesn’t explain why you’re out in the garden.”

“Like he said, we’re on a break,” Iris professed before Barry could acknowledge the resurgence of nerves about their previous conversation. “We’ve been working hard, especially Barry, and there’s no law stating we’re not allowed to have a moment of peace.”

Joe looked unconvinced but he huffed a low chuckle and pulled Barry into a hug of his own. “Wells running you ragged?”

“Something like that,” Barry admitted. “But it’s alright. I have another lesson from him not long from now, so I’m going to talk to him about it.”

“Good.” Joe pulled back and laid a hand on his shoulder. The weight and warmth were more comforting than it should’ve been. “I understand all the fuss happening right now, but your wellbeing should take priority over any crown.”

His eyes started to sting and his smile relaxed. “Thanks, Joe, but really, it’s fine. He’ll understand.”

“If he gives you any trouble over it, Barr, let me know,” Joe insisted. “I think we’ve all been a little rushed these past couple months just trying to make sure everything’s perfect.”

“Speaking of which,” Iris cut in, her hands falling to her hips, “where have you been the past few days? You’ve hardly been seen around the castle.”

Joe’s expression drooped as if he had remembered something that’d been pestering him for a long time, his hand squeezing Barry’s shoulder before he dropped it. Barry got the same uncertain nag in the pit of his stomach that’d risen when he’d spoken to Iris earlier.

“Lots of crime popping up lately,” Joe explained. “I got called in for some villages nearby, mostly shopkeepers. I don’t know if it’s the increased security around the kingdom or the upcoming coronation, but bandits have been everywhere these days.”

Barry’s heart wrenched at the thought of Len, his cocky smirk dancing before his eyes as he spoke so casually about his previous thefts. He slammed a lid on the feeling as quick as he could – it was ridiculous to worry about a _thief_. After all, it was Joe’s job to arrest them, and breaking the law wasn’t negotiable.

Or, it _shouldn’t_ have been, he thought as he recalled their last conversation in the woods, whispers urging him in the back of his mind to leave Len be. But that was different.

He couldn’t help but hope Len was being safe out there.

“Wouldn’t _more_ security discourage them from stealing?” Iris asked. Thankfully, she didn’t bring up the incident with the bandit in the woods – he did not want to stammer through that story when Barry knew Joe _and_ Iris would be able to sense him lying. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“If they’re hungry or greedy enough, nothing will stop thieves.” Joe was definitely beginning to scowl now. “It’s the last thing we need, but some people don’t give a damn about others.”

“Well,” Barry chimed in before he could stop himself, “if they have to feed themselves or their families, maybe they don’t have a choice in the matter. I mean, not everyone lives in a castle.”

Iris sent him a strange look but Joe just shook his head. “As much as I’d like to pardon every starving kid, not everyone is a kind-hearted soul out there stealing food for their families to survive, Barr. Like yesterday, for instance: I had to chase down this thief after a pair of shoes in the market! By the look of it, he stole it for a laugh or to sell it elsewhere. Even had some other jewelry and goods in his pockets. He knew what he’d done, and he looked mighty proud of it.”

It was difficult not to picture Len’s smug face again. “I didn’t mean all of them,” Barry said weakly. “But I’m sure he’ll have lots of time to think about it after being arrested.”

Joe’s features darkened and he dug his hand into his trouser pocket. “Actually, we didn’t wind up taking him in.”

Iris’ eyes widened. “ _What_?”

“We were going to,” her father said, his shoulders starting to fall as his jaw clenched. “We did arrest him for a few hours, and he was certainly guilty of his crimes. But Spivot came in with _this_ in her hands.” He withdrew a small squashed flower from his pocket and held it out as Iris and Barry drew closer.

An itch immediately began to gnaw at Barry’s spine, crawling its way through his veins whenever his eyes traced the soft pink petals. It looked innocent, a little smushed from being in Joe’s pocket with spirally arranged leaves and a thin stem, and certainly beautiful. But there was something invariably _off_ about the flower that made his head buzz.

“A flower?” Iris glanced at Joe warily. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Spivot found it outside where we were holding Snart – that’s the thief,” he told her. “Right out on the stoop. None of the villagers saw who left it, but they all started muttering about coincidences and fae.”

The connection clicked in Barry’s mind. “It was sent by magic,” he breathed, taking it carefully from Joe’s hand. The heated tingle spreading through his palm was enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Wait, they thought a _fae_ left it?” Iris crossed her arms over her chest.

“Not just them. Most of the guards too. Could’ve been a practical joke, but they were adamant that no one set foot anywhere near the door. The whole village didn’t help, being a superstitious bunch. Spivot started talking about flower symbolism and warnings and…” Joe’s eye twitched as if he were reliving the moment. “They thought it was a sign we ought to let him off with a warning.”

Iris didn’t look pleased. “That doesn’t mean it means anything! For all we know, it could just be a flower.”

“No, it’s buzzing,” Barry said, turning the flower over in his palm to look at it from all sides. “It’s faint, but whoever left it must have summoned it from somewhere.”

“Why would a fae be so interested in this ‘Snart’ character then?”

Barry wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. It might’ve been a warning like Patty said. Though with a name like _Snart_ , it’s no surprise he turned to crime. I’d be upset too if that was my first name.”

Joe snorted, but his expression still bore traces of irritation. “Surname, actually. But I’m not surprised. His old man used to be a knight until he became a thief himself.”

“Really?” His fingers played with one of the petals – he wished he knew what it was called, maybe he’d bring it to Caitlin later to see what she thought – and he swore he heard a someone’s voice, muffled and distorted, for a second. “That’s…kind of sad.”

“Not if he’s proud of what he does,” Iris reminded him. “Doesn’t explain why he’s got a fae looking out for him and bailing him out of a trip to the dungeons.”

“Who’s taking a trip to the dungeons now?”

Barry instinctively shoved the flower into his own trouser pocket as they spun around. He relaxed, though, and felt rather silly upon seeing it was only Wells, who looked a little amused at their gathering.

“No one,” he said with a nervous laugh. “No one. Joe was just telling us about, uh, what he’s been handling out in the kingdom. Crime and all.” Barry wanted to cringe: he really needed to stop sticking his foot in his mouth.

Wells, however, had known him since he was small and merely smiled wider. “Of course. I’m sure Captain West has been as busy as we have as of late. Speaking of which, don’t you have somewhere to be, Barry?”

Scratch that. He wanted to crawl into a hole in the garden and bury himself until the coronation day had come and passed.

“Your lesson! _Shit_ , I mean - oh, I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not late – ” Barry brushed off his trousers, hoping they didn’t look too dirty, and started for the nearest castle corridor. Barry swore he heard Iris snicker behind him. “I lost track of the time, I swear – ”

Wells grabbed his arm to stop him in his tracks and held up his other hand to placate him. “It’s alright, Barry. The lesson won’t be starting for another half hour or so.” Barry’s cheeks flushed and it took all his will not to duck his head. “Before we begin, as a matter of fact, I would like to have a word with you. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh. Uh, of course.” He glanced back at Joe and Iris, the latter of whom shrugged. “Lead the way.”

Wells let go, and for a moment Barry’s pocket seemed to burn with the flower pressed against his thigh. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in following the regent down the corridor, pushing aside all thoughts of dreams and thieves and magic for the time being.

 

***

 

“This is a bad idea,” Len said for perhaps the millionth time.

“Lenny, if you’re not going to contribute anything helpful, you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s helpful if we’re wandering in the forest with no idea where we’re headed.”

“I hate to agree with your brother on this one,” Ramon piped up, looking indeed disgruntled about conferring with Len on _anything_ , “but he has a point. I thought you said this fae would be easy to find?”

“I didn’t say it’d be _easy_ ,” Lisa said, exasperation seeping into her tone. “I said it was a simple on principle and once we figure out where she’s been spotted, we can make an educated guess from there. Just need to know where she’s been and where she’ll go next.”

“The whole _principle_ depends on finding her in the first place,” Len growled. He could tell his irritation was starting to get to Lisa, but he hadn’t been on-board with this plan of hers from the start and she _knew_ that.

He couldn’t believe he let his sister talk him into this.

The moment she mentioned finding a fae to help – specifically _his long-gone fae godmother_ – he’d tried to shut the idea down. Explaining the situation with Lisa’s magic to Ramon was necessary and he understood that circumstances changed. But his _curse_ was off-limits. Lisa had no business going around talking about it, whether she trusted the mage or not. She’d been stingy on details last night, thankfully, but there was no telling what they’d wind up having to explain next.

Besides, there was a reason Len had given up years ago on finding Sara Lance. For one, they had no clue where to start looking for her. Fae were in hiding or resting nice and cozy in their own realms – no one in any villages or towns were going to be able to spot a fae at first glance if they were smart enough. There was rarely a reason to venture out among humans, not these days when they were shamed and banished from most parts without another word.

The second was that even if they _did_ find Lance, he was sure she wouldn’t be willing to take the gift back. Help change Ramon into a human again, sure. Fae were known to be benevolent, after all.

Refusing to accept a gift, however, was equivalent to spitting in a fae godmother’s face. Sheer disrespect, essentially. Len didn’t know anyone else personally who had tried to remove a gift, but if more people were successful in getting it taken away, there’d be a lot more stories about it.

Hell, there weren’t _any_ stories in the first place.

Len had made his peace with being trapped like this a long time ago. He didn’t need Lisa’s optimism to raise any false hopes. For her, of course.

Still, she hadn’t backed down last night, arguing persistently until he and Ramon hushed her repeatedly in an effort not to wake Lewis downstairs and Len finally agreed just to end the fight. Guilt roiled in his stomach the entire time, the itch in his bones to tell his sister of Lewis’ newest orders, something that would surely spell the end for them both, persisting throughout the night. He wasn’t about to confess to anything in front of the mage-turned-book, though, and kept silent. Lisa’s bright smile stuck with him as he snuck to the kitchen and grabbed some food for the trip, genuine enthusiasm lighting up her face in a way that made him feel worse.

The latter may have come from getting to sneak out of the house, which Len remained tense throughout, half-expecting Lewis to throw open the front door and charge them at any moment as they scaled down the side in the middle of the night. Ramon hadn’t asked any more questions about Lewis, but the frown on his face when they’d sprinted into the woods, not daring to stop until Len was positive they were far enough to camp away from the house for the night, was telling.

Len had had many dreams about escaping that hellhole with Lisa and none of them had involved a talking book or Sara goddamn Lance.

Lisa glared at him and hefted Ramon higher in her arms as if his presence were there to spite Len. “You know these woods better than anyone, Lenny. All we need to do is make it to the nearest village and figure out where to go from there.”

“Easier said than done,” Ramon griped. “There’ll be guards in every village we pass. Security around the borders and neighboring towns has gone up in light of – ”

“The coronation, I _know_ ,” Len sneered. “Which is why we don’t need to draw attention to ourselves. For instance, by using a book with a floating head that talks on its own.”

“ _This_ isn’t my fault. No offense, Lisa,” Ramon said, glancing up at said woman. “And I think a thief is going to draw a lot more attention than me, considering all she has to do is shove me into a bag to hide me, whereas, with _you_ , we all have to suffer thanks to _your_ face.”

Not for the first time, Len was tempted to chuck the former mage into the nearest stream.

“Boys, you’re both dangerous and pretty,” Lisa snapped. “The important thing is, we have a plan – ”

“A terrible one,” Len interrupted which earned him another glare.

“ – and we’re sticking to it. You said people west of Amplewick might know more about fae whereabouts, so we’re heading that direction.”

“I said there are rumors about _magic_ ,” Len corrected her. “And there isn’t much out west besides other villages – most of whom will run us out of the market the second we start asking about magic – before we reach Star Kingdom, which has even stricter magic laws and whose guards will likely arrest us on sight.”

Ramon looked queasy. “Aren’t there ogres near the borders as well?”

Lisa and Len exchanged a look. He didn’t want to admit it, but now that he remembered the threat of ogres too, he was even less inclined to venturing west. Last he’d heard they were raiding villages now, pushing further and further into Central. The last thing they needed was to be eaten by a group of ogres.

“We’ll be able to steer clear of them,” Lisa declared, putting on a confident air to reassure Ramon, no doubt. “Ogres are hardly subtle.”

The mage’s worries didn’t look assuaged but he nodded and bit his lip. “Right. I guess they’re the least of our problems.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. After all, didn’t you say the other day that the chances of running into an ogre are one in a thousand?”

That startled a small laugh out of Ramon. “Yeah, I guess I did. You remember that?”

Lisa’s smile turned demure and Len didn’t bother hiding the way he rolled his eyes. “Of course. I _was_ paying attention, you know.”

“Well, I know, I just – wait, no wonder you wanted to talk to me about magic!” If he had a hand, Len suspected Ramon would’ve smacked himself in the face with it. “Were you using those conversations to help control your own?”

“I don’t have many people to talk to about magic, if you couldn’t tell. I don’t use it often anyway, and you were kind enough to indulge me.”

“I distinctly remember it being the other way around.”

“If we’re done reminiscing,” Len grumbled, taking care not to trip over tree roots in front of his feet (he was certain his sister could’ve sent them away with a wave of her hand but if the look on her face was anything to go by, that wasn’t happening anytime soon), “I believe we were talking about better ways to find fae.”

Ramon frowned. “I’d actually like to know more about this godmother of yours. All you said was neither of you have seen her since you were little, which, by the way, doesn’t make sense since Lisa being half-fae means she has to be _your_ godmother.”

It was Len’s turn to flash a dirty look at his sister, who had the audacity to uphold her charming smile despite the flicker in her eyes. He couldn’t talk about the gift, not with his mother’s order standing after all this time, but he wasn’t keen on Lisa telling Ramon anything more.

“She is Lenny’s,” Lisa conceded. “I’ve never met her and I doubt Lenny remembers her either since fae godmothers don’t exactly stick around after giving their gifts.”

Ramon shut his eyes and released a long-suffering sigh. “How are we supposed to find her if _neither_ _of you_ knows what she looks like?”

“I’ll say it again: this is a bad idea,” Len muttered.

“If we find another fae,” Lisa said patiently, “we should be able to find her. There has to be _someone_ who knows her name.”

“Do either of _you_ even know her name?”

Lisa turned to her brother expectantly and he bit back the rising condescending comment on the tip of his tongue.

“We’re looking for a woman named Sara Lance.” He couldn’t quite hide his surprise at how easy the words left his lips. He’d never tried telling Lisa any more about the fae herself; it was somehow relieving to know he could at least speak about _this_.

“Alright. That’s a start at least.” Ramon glanced between the two of them. “What about the gift? That should help narrow down the search too.”

Even without the curse, he would’ve opted to keep his mouth shut. Guilt wavered on his sister’s face.

_Don’t you dare, Lise._

“Sorry, honey, but that one’s between us.”

“If we’re trying to find the fae godmother who gave you the gift, it’d be helpful to know what it is we’re looking for,” Ramon said, raising an eyebrow. “What if there are multiple people who’ve been given that gift? Narrowing it down to a Sara Lance and – ”

“No need to worry,” ice crept into Len’s tone, “there are no other gifts like mine.”

“Well, you don’t know – ”

A yell rang out, bringing them to a halt. Len glanced at his sister, who looked ready to either bolt when he said the word or run toward the possible danger, her arms squeezing Ramon closer.

“What was that?” the former mage hissed, craning his neck as he tried to look around.

“Probably something that’d be glad to eat us.” Len started off again. “Come on, we have to – ”

Another yell, this time clearly pained and fainter than the first, reached their ears. Len didn’t like the resolve in Lisa’s eyes.

“Someone’s in trouble.”

“If so, it’s none of our business.”

“Lenny – ”

“It could be a trap,” he warned. “Nothing good comes from helping strangers in the woods.”

“Again, I hate to side with your brother on this one but – whoa, wait, what are you doing?” Lisa shoved Ramon’s book into Len’s arms and took off as the shout came once more. “Hold on, we don’t know what’s out there! Let’s reconsider the situation!”

“Better quit while you’re ahead, kid.” Len cast his eyes to the sky, wondering how the hell this was his life. “This is Lisa we’re talking about.”

“What if there are ogres or – wait, I see that look what’re you – _Snart_ – !”

He tucked Ramon under his arm (ignoring the mage’s squawks) and hurried after his sister. He had a feeling he was going to need his sword.

 

***

 

_I don’t have to sugarcoat this for you, Barry: people are worried about what kind of ruler you’re going to be. I have to take the fault for handling most of the meetings and rallies. You are, after all, a grown man. Sometimes I forget that._

_That’s why I believe it’s time for you to take on some hands-on learning of your own._

“Well, how did it go?”

The only reason Barry didn’t startle at the sound of Iris’ voice was that he knew she’d be waiting for him. Of course she would. He paused in the process of packing his knapsack.

_Nerve-wracking. Anxiety-inducing._

“Pretty good. He agreed I’ve been kind of stressed lately.”

Iris stepped up to his side and Barry couldn’t stop himself from glancing her way. The mixed concern and confusion written across her features made his grip on his cloak tighten.

Honestly, he couldn’t blame her. His insides were doing jumping jacks out of anxiety. He hadn’t expected to walk out of the conversation with Wells to set off toward an entirely different kind of lesson.

The nagging voice in his ear kept hissing he didn’t know the first thing about what he was about to do. Which – well, it was true. Even with all of Wells’ lessons in catering to the people’s needs and doing what was best for the kingdom as a whole stirring way in the back of his mind, he felt under-prepared. Wells was the one people looked up to, whom people tended to trust when things went awry.

How was he supposed to prove he was capable of being a great ruler if he didn’t know where to start?

“That why you’re sneaking out again?” She pulled out a waterskin with a pointed look. “I don’t know if I should be worried or happy for your secret admirer.”

“I’m not…” Barry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. The thought of not getting to see Len before he left gnawed at his chest even as he cleared his throat, struggling to put that aside for now. “I’m not sneaking out. Not for him or anyone else.”

“Oh?”

“Wells asked me to take care of some things. Diplomacy things.”

Iris lowered her hand and dropped the waterskin back onto the bed. “What kind of ‘diplomacy things’?”

“Uh, meetings with…some residents in Giant Country?”

Her jaw dropped just as he’d expected, her eyes blowing wide. If his insides weren’t ablaze with nerves, he probably would’ve laughed; his initial reaction had been similar. “ _Giant Country?_ ”

“Yeah?”

Iris swatted his shoulder, eliciting a yelp from him. “You’re going to _Giant Country_ alone? Is Wells _trying_ to get you killed?”

He grabbed the waterskin to put it back in his bag. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“Barry, we haven’t met with the giants in ages! There are rumors they’re almost as bad as ogres these days.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Barry told her, though the voice in the back of his mind screaming about everything that could go wrong was having a conniption at the thought. “Did you hear that from the same people who believe all fae and magic are evil?”

“I’m serious.” She grabbed his wrist to stop him from packing. “You can’t go off on your own in giant territory.”

“Who said I’m leaving alone?”

Iris opened her mouth to protest but she quickly shut it, eyeing Barry closely. His mouth twitched before he could help it and her eyes narrowed. “Are you – ?”

“I do remember hearing someone tell me it was unwise to travel by myself,” he teased. “After all, there could be bandits on the road.”

Iris stared. “Does my father know about this?”

“Wells said he’d warn him.”

“Barry…”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to see a giant in person?”

Iris shook her head, but the budding frustration seemed good-natured at best behind her eyes. She let go of his wrist and he flashed her his best puppy-dog stare, complete with a pleading smile.

“Iris,” he begged. “It’s either you or a whole entourage of royal guards following me across the kingdom.”

“I don’t like this.”

Barry’s shoulders slumped. “I know, but I need you.”

“True. You’ll probably get lost halfway there.”

He chuckled. “See! How else would I know which roads lead to Giant Country or an ogre’s lair?”

Iris’ lips curled at the corners. “I suppose it’d be a shame if the future king got eaten by an ogre his first time out on his own.”

Barry held out his arms, his smile growing less strained. She rolled her eyes but it only took a moment for her to walk into his embrace with a laugh as he squeezed her shoulders.

“I can’t do this without you,” he confessed in a low tone. There was no one in the room aside from them, but he felt as if he ought to speak quietly, the words hushed in the walls of his bedroom.

She exhaled a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere, Barr.” She pulled away and met his eyes with a renewed fire in her gaze. “Now, what’s the plan?”

 

***

 

By the time Len caught up to his sister, the shouting had grown louder, resembling more of a boisterous series of grunts than anything. He couldn’t see the source of the cries yet, but the bad feeling in his gut didn’t spell anything good.

“If I had hands right now, I’d punch you in the face,” Ramon snapped from his armpit.

“How intimidating. I’m shaking my boots. No, wait – you’re definitely ruffling my pages.”

“I _swear_ to – ”

Lisa stopped behind a thick oak and pressed her finger to her lips. Len relayed the message – during which Ramon sent him a look he was sure was meant to be the equivalent of the middle finger – and walked over to her side. He was about to ask her why she was hiding when the voices intermingling with the grunts and yelling became clearer.

“Take that, you fucking freak!”

“Go back to your own hole! Oughta make you sing, you little - !”

Ah.

He didn’t need to glance at his sister to observe the unbridled fury crossing her face, darkening her eyes. Her hands began to coil into fists at her side.

Len peered around the trunk of the tree and his heart seized unexpectedly. A group of three men, likely hunters if their attire and sneers were anything to go by, were surrounding a burly man. He couldn’t make out the other’s face, not from this distance and with the flying fists in the way, but the pointed ears were a telling indication as to what had escalated the situation. The threats coming from the middle of the impromptu huddle, some of which were rather graphic, seemed to be coming from the victim as well as he swung his arms – burns crawling up his skin like spiderwebs, he realized with a jolt, standing stark against his skin with angry red scars crisscrossing amongst them – at his attackers. Even when he was pushed to his knees, he seemed to be putting up a decent fight.

Not quite a victim after all.

A rather unfortunate elf, to be exact.

“They sound lovely,” Ramon muttered. His face reflected the mirrored disgust he was sure was decorated on his own.

“We have to help him,” Lisa said vehemently. “This is inhumane and cruel.”

“We can’t rush out there without a plan, though. Let’s just think this through.”

Lisa huffed. “What is there to think through? They’re no match against magic. All I need – ”

“It’s three against two,” Ramon pointed out, “and while I’d love to see you kick their asses, if they turn on you too – ”

Len handed Lisa Ramon before either could continue arguing and stepped out from behind the tree, revealing himself. “Doesn’t seem like you’re being awfully considerate toward that elf there, gentlemen,” he called out, spreading his arms with a smirk. “What’d he ever do to you?”

The men turned as one, the hunter currently kicking the elf in the side bursting into a peal of laughter. Len could hear Ramon groaning in his sister’s arms quietly, but to his relief, they stayed put.

“What’s it to you? Ain’t anyone ever told you to mind your own business?”

Len shrugged. “Suppose not. Didn’t answer my question, though.”

“Does it matter? He’s the same as all the rest.”

The man on the far right had a dagger in hand, he noted. All were armed with short-range weapons at the very least. The closest, the one who had spoken first, bore a crossbow strapped to his back.

“I won’t ask again, gentlemen.”

The hunter who’d spoken before spat at his feet with a leering grin. “I think you should run along. We’re done here.”

“Hmm.” Len cocked his head and met the elf’s eyes. There was no mistaking the gleam of mirth behind his dark gaze. “I don’t know about that.”

 Before the man could draw his crossbow, the elf charged headfirst into his spine, wrapping his arms around the man’s middle as he took him to the ground. The other two began to run over to help but Len met them halfway with a fist to each face. The punch only knocked one man down, the other staggering before swiping at Len with his dagger, one hand pressed to his bleeding nose.

“Gonna burn all of you pigs!” the elf bellowed. Len didn’t dare look over his shoulder, but he had a feeling their new companion wouldn’t need any help fighting the first hunter if the increase in skin-on-skin connection he could hear from here was any clue.

Len rolled to the side before he took a dagger to the stomach and spotted a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye heading his way. So much for keeping Lisa out of the fight.

“Stay back – ”

“Left hook, Lenny!” Lisa shouted. He went with the surge of heat in his veins, his fist colliding with the man on the ground he hadn’t seen making his way toward him. The other man snarled and went for his chest, awfully keen on avenging his unconscious pal.

“What, you got girls telling you how to fight too?” Len took an elbow to the side and grabbed the other’s arms with both hands, gritting his teeth. Fuck, he wasn’t nearly as strong as the elf over there. “What kind of pitiful – _fuck, what the fuck!_ ”

The man slid off of him, losing his grip on his only weapon as he scrambled to grab hold of the earth beneath him while a pair of roots wrapped themselves around his ankles like a bear trap, hoisting him upside-down into the air with a high-pitched shriek. Len turned to his sister, who still held Ramon – whose face was facing her and not any potential onlookers, thank goodness – with cold anger dancing in her eyes.

“I had that handled.”

The anger dimmed as she waved a hand dismissively, sending the man screaming into the forest floor below. Judging by the whimper, he definitely broke a few bones in the process. “Sure you did, jerk.”

A pained cry to his left caught his attention just in time for him to watch the elf knock out the hunter with a fist to the face. Len grimaced at the blood splattered on the unconscious man’s face, most of belonging to his lips and nose.

“You alright?” Lisa asked. He felt like applauding his sister for not being deterred by the skeptical look the elf sent her way, his knuckles bruised and blood dotting his worn clothes like an abstract painting. “They didn’t hurt you too badly, did they?”

The elf bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile, interest dawning on his features as he scanned Lisa. “Nothing to worry ’bout. Nice trick with the plants.”

Len wanted to close his eyes and groan.

They truly were excelling at keeping their identities hidden.

Honestly.

No wonder all it had taken was Ramon climbing in through the window one night for all hell to break loose.

 Lisa took it in stride; her own expression turned sharp as she smiled back, nose scrunching up as the man who’d fallen from her makeshift rope let loose another dull whine. “It was nothing.”

“Sure didn’t seem like nothing.” The elf glanced at Len and the amusement glittering in his eyes grew tenfold. “What’re you doing in the middle of the forest?”

“Visiting relatives,” Len said dryly.

The amusement vanished in an instant. The message seemed to get across pretty fast.

“Just passing through, huh.”

“Yes, precisely,” Lisa agreed, walking over and holding Ramon firm against her chest. The mage better have had the decency to make his head disappear or Len was going to have words with him later. “We’d better be on our way, but it was nice to meet you…”

“Mick. Mick Rory,” the elf said. He didn’t bother to stick out a hand in greeting and folded his arms across his chest. “Guessing you’re Lisa, then. Bigger than I thought you’d be.”

His sister’s smile faltered, tipping precariously on the verge of threatening. “Excuse me?”

“It’s fine, Lise,” Len said, taking the brunt of her bewildered glare.

“Lenny, what on – ?”

“How long you been on the run?” Mick asked.

“Less than a day.” Len inclined his head. “You know a place?”

“Yeah, not far from here.”

“Good. We’re gonna need it.”

“Hang on,” Lisa raised a hand, her lips pursed in thought, “do you two – ?”

“Yes,” Len replied bluntly. He figured there was little else to it.

Lisa’s face lit up for only a second before her annoyance returned full-force. “Since when were you going to tell me you knew an _elf_?”

“When you were older and less stubborn.” Len turned to Mick, who looked far too entertained by the rising argument. “How far is it from here?”

“Half a day. Village nearby called Somerset.”

“Lenny, I see you ignoring me.”

“Perfect.”

Lisa’s eyes flashed. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

Mick chortled. “I like her.”

Of course he did. If Len’s side wasn’t aching and a headache wasn’t threatening to unfurl in his skull, he’d almost feel proud.

“Fine.” He rubbed his fingers against his temples. “At least let us be on our way.”

Lisa sniffed but she said nothing, which Len took as a point in his favor. She headed back the way they’d come and Len spared a moment to glower in the face of Mick’s cheeky grin.

“Not my fault you didn’t tell her,” he pointed out needlessly.

Len did _not_ growl and march after his sister, no matter what Mick said later, the quiet sounds of Mick’s laughter reaching his ears.

He wondered if Lisa would still plan on throttling him if she knew the elf was once intended to be her future guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, Mick's voice is hard to write but I love him so fucking much as Slannen.
> 
> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	9. Nothing to Relive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing is set on fire and for that, everyone is grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here’s a sort-of filler with more Mick, poor Cisco, and the Snibs. And hopefully a swifter update in the future now that I’m starting to get into the fun shit.

By the time Lisa retrieved their hastily-packed lunches from his knapsack, Len was beginning to twitch with uncanny restlessness. He didn’t have any right to be: everything was going fine thus far. They hadn’t had any trouble aside from the hunters, Lewis wasn’t on their tail, and they were on the right track as far as they knew. Even the slight stagger from Mick was letting up thanks to Lisa’s insistence on looking over his bruises.

Mick’s presence was both a comfort and a hindrance.

It’d been so long since Len had seen him –  _nearly five years to the day_ , a voice in the back of his mind chimed in traitorously – that it almost felt as if he’d never left. Walking side-by-side with Mick and ignoring Lisa’s glares from behind him (where he was sure she was talking under her breath to Ramon whenever she could, not that she needed to worry about Mick stealing him or whatever it was she pictured happening) felt strangely satisfying.

Then he’d glance at Mick’s blank expression, remember the flames dancing in the other’s eyes as he dragged him from the burning inn and his chest would seize up.

It was the silence. The silence was starting to get to him.

His sister dropped the knapsack beside him and marched over to the tree across from him, placing Ramon in her lap with his face pointed toward the sky (not that he could see said face from here). Mick snorted and took his own sandwich.

“You’re awfully angry about this,” Len said after a moment, keeping his eyes trained on his food.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be if you explained anything,” Lisa snarked back. He swore he heard Ramon mutter an agreement. “I know you haven’t had time to visit any elves lately.”

“It was a job. You were barely four, how was I supposed to tell you?”

“Could’ve done it when the old man was gone,” Mick suggested unhelpfully through a mouthful of his sandwich.

“Well, things changed. Didn’t have time to explain when I was off on more and more jobs. Couldn’t risk getting caught.”

Lisa’s irritation began to dim. “Caught?”

Mick scrutinized his sandwich.

Oh, joy. There was that stabbing pain in his chest again.

Len sighed and took a bite of his own as he considered how to phrase his next sentence. “Mick and I had…a plan. In case things didn’t get better.”

“A plan.” Lisa’s tone was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Mick had a place in Keystone. Plenty of space, lots of people who wouldn’t look twice.”

“Lenny – ”

“It wasn’t permanent,” he continued, feeling both of their gazes boring into him. “Just temporary in case I couldn’t leave.”

 _In case the curse wouldn’t let me_.

“You…” He heard his sister suck in a shaky breath. He wondered what Ramon thought of the situation, if he could hear the unspoken details in his explanation.

He hadn’t lied. With Lisa as young as she was when they met, still excitable and not as good as hiding secrets as he was, there had been no time to tell her. Besides, he hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up in case the contingency plan wasn’t necessary in the end.

Just because the plan existed didn’t mean it would’ve come true, after all. Backup plans were meant to be throw away at the drop of a hat if they didn’t work.

Len chanced a glance up when Lisa’s silence persisted and met her gaze. She blinked twice, struggling to hide the moisture building in her eyes, but there was no sign of her earlier frustration.

“You’re a jerk,” she declared.

Len tried for a smirk but judging by the look on his sister’s face, he guessed it came out sincerer than he intended. “Guilty as charged.”

“This got sappy,” he could hear Ramon say from Lisa’s lap.

Mick raised an eyebrow and looked around. “Someone say something?”

“Of course not,” Lisa lied brightly. Her mood seemed to turn a one-eighty before his eyes, back straightening from where she leaned against her tree. She really wasn’t being subtle by placing her palm over Ramon’s oval cut-out for his face. “But since you two are so close, I suppose I ought to thank you then, Mick.”

Mick looked rightfully wary despite his approval of Len’s sister. “What for?”

“For taking care of my brother.” Len almost choked on his next bite. “I’ve heard elves bear a sense of duty to those who help them. Some sort of code, am I right?”

Mick’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “You’re not wrong. But the  _duty_  goes both ways. In this case, it ain’t mine to fulfill.”

Lisa glanced at Len in confusion and he tried not to grit his teeth at the blatant laughter behind Mick’s eyes. “Elven code suggests that if either another creature or the elf themselves helps one or the other in need, there is a life debt to be paid. Have to bind themselves to the other in order to pay it off, or at least stick with them until they save their life.”

“And…Mick isn’t the one with the debt.” Well, it seemed they were back to the accusations.

The elf snickered out loud this time. Len resisted the urge to elbow him.

“No, he isn’t,” Len conceded.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Only you, Lenny. Do I even want to know what he saved you from?”

“It’s not important.”

“Little shrimp was getting his ass kicked,” Mick supplied gleefully. “Then I decided to step in.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ramon muttered. Lisa shushed him through her teeth but the damage had been done.

Mick narrowed his eyes and tensed. “Who’s there?” he demanded, starting to push himself up off the ground. “You hear that?”

Len gave Lisa a knowing look and held out a hand to halt Mick from rising. “Calm down, Mick,” he said. “There’s no one out there.”

“I ain’t hearing things, Snart – ”

“Never said you were.” He nodded toward Lisa’s lap. “It came from the book.”

“Wha – ?” Mick’s eyes flicked to the book as Lisa sighed and lifted Ramon into a sitting position in her lap, the blank oval facing the elf now. “What do you mean ‘the book’?”

Ramon’s face swam into view on the cover with a huff. “I have a  _name_ , you know.”

The tips of Mick’s ears twitched. He stared at the book for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. “That so.”

“Mick, this is Cisco,” Lisa said, gesturing to the mage’s grumpy face. “Cisco, honey, this is Mick.”

“You can talk.”

Ramon –  _Cisco_ , Len corrected begrudgingly, they’d gotten to know each other well enough to be on a first name basis – didn’t ease up on his vitriolic stare. “And you can form coherent sentences every once in a while.”

“ _Boys_.”

Mick shook his head. “A talking book. ’Least I know I’m not going crazy. Can I see?”

Lisa paused, mulling it over, but she didn’t seem to find any harm in the idea. She handed Cisco over and Mick examined the book, growing more amused by the muttering from Cisco. He thumbed through the pages and his brows rose high on his forehead.

“More magic of yours?”

“I may have  _accidentally_  turned him into a book.”

Mick snorted but he still looked troubled. Len finished off his sandwich and moved closer to see what the issue was.

“Not that. I meant the encyclopedia inside.”

“What?” Lisa hurried over and by then Len realized with a start, as he caught a glimpse of the pages Mick was flipping through, that Cisco’s pages were indeed not empty after all. Page after page held sketches of magical creatures and descriptions of towns all throughout the kingdom, all written in barely legible handwriting he had to squint to make out.

Lisa’s breath caught. “Cisco, is this from  _you_?”

“I guess?” They couldn’t see the mage’s face with the book propped open but he imagined Cisco was just as puzzled as they were. “I don’t know, they just showed up!”

Mick turned the page and let out a low whistle at the full-body sketch of an elf covering the parchment, complete with a vivid description beside it. “This is all from your brain? Damn, kid, you know a lot.”

“I don’t know  _everything_.” By the sound of it, there was a definite flush to his cheeks. “Otherwise I’d be a lot thicker.”

“Wait,” Len took the book from Mick and shut it so he could see the mage’s face, an idea striking, “is there anything in here that you didn’t know before?”

Cisco grimaced. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, the differences between elves and humans might be better articulated than before, but who knows? I definitely don’t remember knowing the layout of this forest that well, and we should watch out for the ogre lair up ahead, by the way – ”

Lisa’s eyes widened, catching onto Len’s train of thought. “But if you know everything – Cisco, show me Sara Lance!”

Len opened the book to the middle and his heart clenched as scribbles flew across the pages by an invisible hand, a large SARA LANCE written above a moving picture of a woman with long hair and a fire in her eyes. She didn’t look older than thirty, all cheekbones and slender limbs as she strode through a rainy town, a cloak shielding the rest of her from view. Len couldn’t see her wings but he didn’t doubt that they were there, perhaps hidden underneath the cloak.

Over three decades of wondering about his godmother, about the woman who made his life hell nearly more than his father had, he hadn’t quite expected her to look so…paranoid. And dangerous, if the glint off a sword hanging on her belt underneath the cloak was anything to note.

He’d never been able to put a face to the name  _Sara Lance_ before, but he thought it suited her well.

She passed a sign hanging over a large inn and glanced around her with the ease of a predator stalking its prey. She ducked inside and the magical sketch began to fade.

Len shut the book and handed Cisco back to Lisa before the mage could protest. “Looking for an inn called  _The Black Dragon,_ ” he said. “Any ideas where that could be?”

Mick frowned. “Been to all kinds o’ inns. Don’t know that one. I can tell you it’s not in Star or Keystone, though.”

“Thank goodness,” Len muttered.

“Do you know where it is, Cisco?” Lisa asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve never been outside of Amplewick, save for a few times my parents took me and Dante by Central’s castle. Which, I gotta say, very impressive.”

“Well, at least we know she’s out there,” Lisa said, her expression brightening. “She can’t be too far. Maybe if we ask later, we can figure out where we need to be looking.”

“It could be anywhere,” Len pointed out. “We don’t have time to search every kingdom. We don’t even have a set direction to head in.”

“West.” Len and Lisa turned to face Mick, who brushed crumbs off his face as he finished his sandwich. When he’d had time to eat it so quickly was beyond Len. “If it’s raining, has to be west. I left that way and folks were saying it’d be storming soon.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “That’s…convenient.”

Mick shrugged. Len resisted the urge to growl and stood, repacking the rest of his sandwich for later.

“Well, better get going if we want to reach town by nightfall. We shouldn’t sleep out here in the woods. Not safe.”

“Yes,  _please_ ,” Cisco moaned. “Not that I don’t want my face eaten by a hungry monster, but I’d rather stay intact if that’s fine with you.”

“Oh, honey,” Lisa simpered as she rose to her feet, “as if we’d  _let_  you get torn apart.”

Len felt an odd sense of déjà vu, watching Mick with no pack waiting for him (and Lisa) to get ready to move on. His stomach lurched at the memory of drinking in taverns and inns after jobs, being wary of the time limit for Lewis’ orders while listening to Mick antagonize the fellow patrons over his fourth beer.

If either Mick or Lisa noticed how his jaw tightened when he followed them out of the clearing, they said nothing of it.

 

***

 

“It’s done,” the mage announced not a moment after he stepped into the room. He was facing the window, gazing out onto the castle grounds with his hands folded behind his back. Zolomon wondered if he’d cast a spell for intruders. He had hardly been loud upon entering.

He shut the door behind him and glanced at the bed. The fae from the other night was gone now, the sheets’ mussed state the only sign of their ritual.

“When did he leave?”

“Soon after lunch. He took a guard for protection.”

Zolomon suppressed the childish urge to chuckle. A single guard was hardly an effective means of security. And certainly not in the woods of Central Kingdom.

“They will be no trouble.”

The mage tilted his head but didn’t turn. “You mistake my intentions. Neither of them will come to harm. Not until they reach their destination’s end, at least.”

Zolomon’s brow creased with his scowl. “Then how – ?”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Yes,” he answered on instinct alone.

“Then trust me. The whole castle – the other guards, the servants, even the regent – knows of his journey. The timing must be  _precise._  His absence is a diversion so I may set plans in motion, ensure that any obstacles are taken care of.” The mage sighed quietly, his hands twitching. “I must be at full strength by the time he returns.”

Zolomon didn’t point out the obvious, that it would take more time than they had at their disposal for the mage to regain what power he claimed to have lost. “What would you have me do?”

He caught a glimpse of a smile in the window’s reflection.

“Stall them both as long as possible.”

 

***

 

“What’d he do this time?”

He was almost surprised Mick had waited this long to ask. Then again, he likely hadn’t wanted to alarm Lisa further with just how much he knew of their lives. Asking outright in the open woods, where anyone or anything could hear, wasn’t Mick’s style.

It’d taken him a while to learn the elf could be discreet when he wanted.

“Wasn’t Lewis. Not directly, anyway.” Len turned over the hilt of his sword in his hands, keeping his eyes on the door to the room. Mick had promised no one would bother them, that the inn in Palmswood had been abandoned for over a year and the town itself was barely populated as it was due to frequent raids, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Predictability wasn’t always a blessing in disguise. “Ran into a problem elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

Len pointed at Cisco's current state by Lisa’s prone form in bed in lieu of explanation. He hoped neither were listening in.

“Ah. Of course.”

“Couldn’t stay,” Len said. “She wanted to turn him back but couldn’t. Was convinced she could help with  _other_  things too.”

“That why you need the fae?”

“It’s not going to work,” Len reminded him, hating how defensive his tone came off. “Can’t take back gifts.”

“It will if you convince them hard enough.”

“I’m not burning a fae, Mick.”

Mick grunted, though he didn’t sound too disappointed. “So, what’d he do then?” Len glanced at Mick when the elf didn’t elaborate and got a huff in response. “The bastard.”

Oh. Right.

He didn’t dare look toward Lisa. “He got me into some trouble in town. Wanted me to…do some things to make up for it.”

“Jobs?”

“Something like that.”

Something in his tone must’ve given away his feelings because he heard Mick sit upright fully to his left. “What is it?”

Lewis’ delighted sneer swam before his eyes. Len remembered sitting, unable to budge thanks to the curse as his father prattled on during dinner. How Lewis leaned forward with the same look in his eyes that led to nothing but trouble, the same look that had gotten him arrested earlier due to his deliberate negligence.

How his insides curdled like spoilt milk at the command seeping into his bones and all he could do was grit his teeth and bear it.

“Had to get out of Amplewick,” Len said. “He’s gotten sloppier, with the both of us.”

“Stop talking in riddles, Snart.”

He paused and Mick went silent. They knew Mick didn’t mean it, not after he’d accidentally ordered Len to drink with him one night when they were both younger and more foolish – when Len hadn’t been able to  _stop_  drinking or able to tell Mick until the elf recognized the magic himself.

Still, intent meant nothing to the curse and the heat in his veins flared when Mick didn’t take the order back.

“He wants me to return only after I  _earn_ ,” he spat the word with the viciousness of a serpent’s hiss, “my weight in gold and jewels.”

“Not for a while, then.”

“Never.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Lewis’ demand of gold to make up for his “disobedience” had certain…conditions. It was for the best that Mick didn’t know of them, lest he bring the subject up in front of Lisa (because this wasn’t a secret he’d want to keep quiet from Len’s sister and they both knew it). He grimaced at the mere thought.

The incident in the market had been only the beginning. Lewis’ claims of usefulness for Len were all but naught at this point. He must have gotten a better deal, a better payout on a recent job for him to consider dropping Len as his plaything. Who knew what he’d have done with Lisa if they had stayed.

He wondered if Lewis was cursing his children or rejoicing in their absence.

It wasn’t as if Len was free, after all. He still had to return, the itch to  _take_  and  _steal_  uncomfortable under his skin. It’d been growing since they ran off that previous night, and he had no doubt that it’d continue to itch until he gave in.

Which…would be a problem if Lisa insisted on doing nothing of the sort until they reached Sara Lance. She had never taken issue with it before but if she knew of the arrest and this nagging buzz, she would never allow him to steal a single piece of gold.

“She know?”

Damn Mick for being able to read him like an open book. “Haven’t had a chance.”

He didn’t have to see the eye roll out of the corner of his eye to know it was coming. “Like you didn’t tell her about me.”

Oh.

They were talking about  _it_ , then.

“We agreed not to. Not yet. Couldn’t have her slip to Lewis, and we couldn’t make any concrete plans.”

“You know that’s bull,” Mick snapped. “We made  _plenty_  of plans. Would’ve worked too and fixed your magic – ”

“Wasn’t me who ran.” Len’s response came out sharper than he intended.

The silence dripped down his shoulders like molten iron, throbbing and searing his bones while his tongue lay unresponsive. The sound of Lisa’s quiet breathing, once soothing, grated on his nerves.

He wasn’t angry, not really. Disappointed after all this time, yes.

Numb.

“We leave tomorrow at dawn.” The bedsheets rustled as Mick rolled over. Len didn’t glance over, didn’t sneak a peek, kept his eyes fixed on the door. “Don’t stay up all night.”

They both knew he wouldn’t get to sleep for long anyway, even with the threat of Lewis far enough away for him to put those thoughts aside.

 

***

 

Lisa had been at school when Lewis dragged him out of the house – fourteen and recovering from ribs his father had nearly fractured the other night – claiming they were heading off on a trip to Keystone. With it being a day’s ride away, Len was worried about his sister but after Lewis shrugged aside his concerns, stating that Lisa would be staying with a friend for the night. Thus, Len didn’t put up a fuss, trailing behind his father through the market as Lewis prattled on about god-knows-what, his eyes gleaming as he eyed the goods for sale.

Then his disinterest got the better of him.

Without warning he was slammed into from the side, losing track of Lewis in moments as he lost his balance. His ribs ached, and Len could only glower at the man who’d waltzed on by, not giving a damn about knocking over a child.

The damage had been done, though, and he spent the next ten minutes searching for Lewis, growing steadily more frantic by the minute. He wouldn’t have cared if it meant losing his father, being able to escape without the man realizing any better, but knowing Lewis his disappearance would incense his rage. Lewis would take out his anger on Lisa without Len to protect her – she was still a child, still a liability in Lewis’ mind – and he couldn’t allow that.

So, if Len had been a little shorter with the group of older boys looking to tease him about wandering the market like a child searching for his mother amidst a crowd for a rally, made a couple of sly remarks that probably weren’t smart given his distracted state and their arrogance…

Well, the point was, he wound up getting his ass kicked in a nearby alley.

Len couldn’t help being a skinny child, and his lack of strength was definitely not working in his favor no matter how hard he tried to throw the others off of him. He almost wished Lewis would appear and save him, yank the boys off by the scruff of their necks with growls and grumbles about what a pain in the ass Len was causing him all this extra trouble. How ironic that the one man he loathed more than anything could also take on the role of savior in his mind.

Thankfully, that had been the point when someone  _did_  step in and toss the boys off of him like ragdolls. He remembered covering his head with both hands, listening to their jeers and sharp yelps as they scattered, running with their tails between their legs. Len hadn’t bothered watching them go, flinching as his scraped palms ran across the dirt as he struggled to rise to his feet.

“Careful there,” a gruff voice came above him, a hand reaching out in front of his face in a wordless offer. “Jackasses kicked the shit outta you.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Len accepted the hand only because he didn’t trust himself not to topple with how his legs shook. He remembered feeling surprised by how young the other was, only a couple years older than him by the look of it. It took him nearly a minute more to even notice the pointed ears poking through his cropped hair. “Thanks, I guess.”

Aside from Lisa, he’d never met a creature – to his knowledge – that wasn’t human. Part of him perked in curiosity, tempted to ask questions about why he was alone in a place like Keystone, which he was pretty sure was a lot farther from the nearest elven village than Amplewick was.

Len didn’t get this far by asking impolite questions, though, and he wound up tilting his head to stare at the elf instead. The latter didn’t seem to mind, just released him and raised an eyebrow.

“How’d you even piss ’em off?”

Len shrugged. “Said some things they didn’t like.” He forced himself to tear his eyes away, wincing as he heard Lewis’ voice in the crowd. The man sounded angrier and more annoyed than concerned.

He ought to have been used to it by now, but his stomach contorted in on itself with disappointment.

Something close to what he was feeling must have been reflected on his face because the elf’s gaze honed in on his features within seconds. “He yours?”

“Yeah. I should… I should get going.”

“You got a name?”

Len hesitated, already half-moving to leave the alley with his hand pressed to his side. His mother’s story of meeting Sara Lance nagged at the forefront of his mind as a warning. “What’s it to you?”

“You can’t leave until I get it.”

Len, a bit arrogant and prideful himself after getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter, scowled, his hand clenching in the fabric of his tunic. “And why should I listen to you?”

The elf only looked bemused by his question. “You don’t know anything about how elven laws work, do you?”

Which, of course, was when the elf – who introduced himself as Mick Rory by the time Len took the time to actually give the other his name – wound up explaining how, long story short, Len owed him a life debt that couldn’t be fulfilled until he saved  _Mick’s_  life at some point.

Mick, fortunately, wasn’t interested in holding Len strictly to elven law. Mick had been on his own for many years, traveling from village to village in order to avoid unwanted contact with humans, but he didn’t want to bind Len to him as a companion. He certainly didn’t want to when Len explained the situation – in as few words as he could – with Lisa and his father.

In the end, they agreed to meeting up whenever Len rolled around in Keystone, since Mick had taken a liking to the town. With the unpredictability of where his father’s jobs sent him, Len didn’t see him often but when he did, Mick tended to join him in taking up the job.

Turned out that elves didn’t have any codes against stealing, which came in handy.

Keeping with the law, though, meant Len used any means to keep them out of danger in an effort to uphold his end of the deal. Not that he wanted to usher Mick away any time soon – he rather liked Mick, even if his volatile nature and pyromania were issues at times. He appreciated the elf’s offers to do away with Lewis himself as well, but that was one fight he needed to take on alone. They made a good pair, with Mick’s intimidating stature and keen eye alongside his quick tongue and mind for strategy.

They agreed, after years of deliberating and snarking back-and-forth, around the time when Lewis started sending him off on solo jobs, that if Len went through with one of his many plans to slip out of the house in the middle of the night, it’d be to Mick’s temporary room at an inn in Keystone. Leaving her with Mick was better than nothing, and the elf mentioned one night that he’d once had siblings too, his expression clouded with an emotion he didn’t look too closely to name, so it wasn’t as if he’d be dropping Lisa off with little care in mind. They’d have to live near Mick anyway until Len fulfilled his duty.

As far as Len was concerned, it was a (near) foolproof plan despite all the complications.

Which hadn’t accounted for Mick getting himself caught in a fire at the inn, almost burning down with the place before Len dragged him out.

Or the elf disappearing overnight. No one in Keystone had seen him since the fire, no matter how many times he asked around.

The one variable he’d counted on vanished.

Until now, in the middle of the kingdom with his grown sister toting a portable suitor, where he fought to keep his eyes away from the burns trailing up Mick’s arms.

Somehow Mick looked the same, snoring near Len and hogging the blanket while Len listened for any signs of life beyond the door.

(He tried not to think about how far those burns stretched across Mick’s body, the glazed look Mick used to get when he stared into the flames for too long, how unresponsive he’d been when Len hauled him out on singed shoes.

He didn’t sleep until Mick awoke hours later to bully him into laying his head down so he could take over keeping watch.)

 

***

 

They set off at dawn, pausing only for food and to check in with Cisco a couple times. Sara Lance was still hanging around the town inn, her cloak pulled down over her face despite the page heading detailing her identity. Len was almost impressed by how easily she drank the other occupants under the table. Even Mick nodded in admiration and mumbled something about how it was “always the magical, beautiful women, huh?”

Which…he had a point over, considering Sara Lance and Lisa’s magical abilities.

He made a mental note never to let Lisa get into a drinking competition.

He also noticed, once they left Palmswood and the nosy stares of the town’s residents, that Lisa was…well, it almost seemed like she was  _glowing_. Not literally, thank goodness, but she seemed happier, more energized than she had been the day before. Walking through the forest and asking Cisco about what he knew on magical spells, featuring the occasional attempt at changing him back which caused her mood to dampen for an instant, Len wondered if it was just him that saw how genuinely excited she was.

Maybe there was something in the forest air or his sister was taking an optimistic approach what with their new companion and their new guidance toward a destination.

Maybe Cisco was right about her needing to recharge or rest to sleep off the effects of the spell she’d cast on him the other day.

Speaking of which, Cisco, for his part, was more eager to entertain himself rather than the rest of the group. Len would’ve sympathized, it couldn’t be easy to do nothing but talk and have people flip through his pages, if not for how incessant the chatter was becoming.

“I guess one perk of this spell,” Cisco was saying, “is I can’t dream. Can’t technically sleep either, which…okay, not so wonderful. But hey, no terrifying visions! Or weird dreams about Dante turning into an ogre and chasing me for his own entertainment, but that’s just – ”

“They’re really that awful?” Lisa asked.

His expression started to fall. “Imagine if you had to relive a something hazy and disorienting that you have less than a couple seconds to make sense of, most of which involves things you can’t be sure will come true – but they might, and you could never know it. They’re not always bad, but they’re confusing and you can’t exactly _show_ anyone or tell them what will happen in case it comes true.”

Lisa hummed, her brow furrowed in thought. “A never-ending nightmare.”

“They’re not all bad,” Cisco assured her weakly, “but it’s almost…nicer. You know. Not having to worry about what I’ll see when I go to sleep. I’m still worried about them, don’t get me wrong, but we’ve still got time before they could happen.”

“All the more reason to find Sara, then,” Lisa declared, casting him a sly smile. “Sorry I can’t be of more help, especially after I dragged you into this mess.”

Mick glanced back and raised an eyebrow at Len. Ah, right. They hadn’t explained the curse to Cisco.

With any luck, they would never have to. The kid was smarter than he gave him credit for. He shook his head, indicating for Mick to drop it.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing your best without a teacher thus far, and I’m kind of over being mad about being turned into a book. I mean, if you knew the number of times I gave my brother donkey ears when we were teenagers – ”

“Nice one,” Mick chimed in.

“Well, the point is, it was an honest mistake. Magic’s a finicky mistress and the important thing is that everything is gonna be okay. Oh, and I gotta say, by the way – that trick with the roots yesterday? Very impressive.”

It was rare to see his sister look genuinely pleased by both a compliment and a reassurance. “You’re very sweet, but that was nothing. Vines and plants come easily to me.”

“It usually takes months to learn to master offensive magic.” Cisco flicked his hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head, frustration over his lack of limbs evident by the near-inaudible sigh. “For mages, at least, starting with simple stuff like summoning feathers from across the room or mending a tear in your trousers is a good jumping-off point. You find nature magic easiest, though?”

“Always have,” Lisa agreed.

“That’s interesting. Fae _are_ supposed to be more connected to nature than mages. They’re from a different realm, after all. Maybe that’s part of the reason why?”

“Maybe.”

Cisco did have a point. Lisa’s first incident involving magic nearly destroyed her bedroom thanks to those vines, so that could’ve been some sort of fae rite of passage neither of them had been aware of at the time.

The idea made Len’s stomach churn, though he wasn’t certain why.

“So, while we’re on the topic of fae, if you don’t mind, there’s something I’ve always wondered,” Cisco piped up after a few minutes of tranquil silence. It took all of Len’s will – and consideration for his sister’s feelings – not to shove the book face-first into his knapsack. Len understood Lisa enjoyed having these discussions with someone other than him, especially when Len didn’t have an unbiased opinion on utilizing magic, but it was difficult to stand back and let them chat while he tried to keep an eye and ear out for any signs of passing carts or travelers.

One could only take so many questions about whether Lisa had “tried any other spells, or maybe met another fae, because that would be _incredible_ , not that  _you_ aren’t incredible – ”

Okay, it had less to do with the questions and more the blatant flirting with his sister  _right_   _in front of him_.

“What about?” Lisa asked, either ignoring or enjoying her brother’s suffering, which…was plausible either way. She  _did_  look over to giggle at the tree branch that whapped him across the forehead entirely on  _accident_.

If the tree branch wiggled with the force of her giggling, it had to be a coincidence. Had to be.

Cisco clucked his tongue and took a moment to think. “Well, I hate to bring up the laws against magical creatures, but you all know how strict they are. And, if you take the regent’s  _clear_  bias against - ”

Mick growled from the head of the group, cutting Cisco off. “Don’t get me started on that prejudiced bastard. You know how hard it is to travel anywhere or find work when there’re laws saying your  _kind_  deserves to be eradicated for ‘tricky deals’ and ‘breaking into song to lure visitors to our realm’ – which, we  _do not_ , thank you. That’s just a rumor.”

“Ouch. What about the deals?”

“Life debts,” Len explained.

“Oh.” Cisco grimaced. “Yeah, I can see how people would twist that around.”

“Their own damn fault for falling into the debt in the first place,” Mick grumbled. “Oh, and the whole ‘elves have to be short’ thing? Utter ogre crap. If I wanted to live in a shoe, I would’ve found some kind of spell to do it long before now.”

“Anyway,” Cisco said, side-eyeing the elf in case he burst into a longer rant, “we all know about the laws and how unfair they are. But I always wondered how Wells gets away with that since the freaking  _prince_  lives down the hall.”

Len nearly tripped over a root of his own volition and ran into his sister. “What about him?”

Cisco looked up at him like he was being slow on purpose. “Well, his mom was  _fae_  and a powerful one at that…”

“Doesn’t mean he inherited those abilities – the magic, I mean.”

Now Lisa was staring too. “I’d be  _shocked_  if he hadn’t. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why he hasn’t been seen much. Do you think Wells would keep him in the castle to hide his magic?”

Len heard the unspoken  _like Lewis did with me_  lingering on the tail end of the question loud and clear, whether Cisco was meant to or not.

The implications were something Len had contemplated, sure. He’d thought about Barry having magic once or twice, but he’d shown no signs of wielding any as far as he knew. Would he even know  _how_  to use magic if he had it, with no teacher available? Memories of Lisa’s terror, vines creeping up the bedposts, came to mind before he could dismiss the comparison.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Barry having magic. Not that anything changed, it was just…

Well, say Cisco was right and Barry’s status as half-fae was monumentally important and the kingdom as a whole had overlooked it after the late King and Queen’s deaths. If Wells knew, he was a goddamn hypocrite, as well as Barry. Placing his charge’s life above a whole species was selfish and absurd.

And if Barry did have magic, how could he defend Wells’ laws so vehemently? He had been so convinced that the regent was protecting the kingdom and refused to hear anything that would convince him otherwise, all without offering a shred of evidence against the man.

Something nagged at the back of his mind, something important and gut-gnawing, on the very tip of his tongue, but Len couldn’t figure out what.

“It’s possible,” Mick said, not noticing Len’s internal struggle. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard played favorites.”

“That’s awful,” Lisa said quietly, her eyes blazing with suppressed anger. “Sparing one life because he can’t stand the rest of the kingdom?”

“He claims it’s because they’re ‘dangerous’,” Mick scoffed. “Because we don’t know our own power. Makes up raids and attacks to make us seem like dangers to society.”

Cisco cleared his throat. “Wait, what do you mean  _makes up_  raids?”

Mick turned around, coming to a stop and forcing the rest of the group to do the same. Len  _really_ didn’t like the dread building in his gut. “You don’t think all those ogre attacks actually happened, do you, kid?”

“Of course they did. People sent news to confirm – ”

“Sure, ogres attack occasionally, but never several towns in a row. Never with  _raids_  on villages and towns pushing toward the heart of the kingdom.”

“You’re saying the ogre raids aren’t real?” It was hard to tell with Cisco's head being a reflection on a book, but it looked like he was paling. Lisa certainly was, her lips pursing the longer the conversation went on.

“If they are, they’re not happening like whoever is telling you that crap. Ogres are mostly peaceful, kid. They used to be allies with us elves before this whole mess.”

Cisco bit his lip. “But, that doesn’t make sense at the same time. These laws being the cause of the ogre raids – if they are happening – and magic disappearing.”

“It makes plenty sense,” Mick started to argue, but Cisco cut him off with a shake of his head.

“No, I mean... Just think about it! The King and Queen were killed by a suspected mage and relations with the fae just  _disintegrated_ afterward. They could’ve used the prince to facilitate that relationship, but instead he – the regent – let that relationship die off and hid the prince away from the rest of the kingdom. Why wouldn’t they use that connection if he could’ve helped repair and stop those laws from ever needing to come into play?”

“Because he doesn’t know about them,” Len murmured and the nagging voice in his head was silenced in one swift move, his blood running cold.

Lisa turned to him, hefting the book higher in her arms. “What?”

“He doesn’t know,” Len repeated, the urge to close his eyes and groan growing with every passing moment. “Whether the regent was acting out of prejudice or aiming for land conquest or – whatever the reason… The prince can’t know if he _is_ fae and these laws are still in place. He wouldn’t have allowed them to if he knew.”

Mick took a step forward with a deep-set frown. “You think he doesn’t know what he is at all?”

“Has to.” Something ugly curled in Len’s gut, but he knew he was on the right track, it  _made sense_. Barry had no defense against Wells when Len had brought him up, but Barry didn’t seem like he agreed with the idea of letting fae be arrested or hunted down. He wasn’t that kind of man.

He was the kind of man who let a wanted thief go just because he believed there was good in him.

“We don’t know any of this for certain,” Lisa reminded them. “This is just speculation, remember? We don’t know the prince. He could be as bad as the regent.”

“The rally,” Len said, and her expression faltered. “He didn’t say anything to defend or deny Wells – didn’t do much other than fidget. He can’t know about the laws, about whether he has magic, if he’d let the regent walk all over him like that.”

“This explains…” Cisco swallowed and Len wondered if he meant to hide the terror in his eyes (puns about being an open book came to mind, but now wasn’t the time or place). “Oh, man, if that’s why they didn’t let me see him…”

Lisa turned him around to face her. “What are you talking about, honey?”

Cisco shut his eyes. “Before the rally, before we met… I went to see the regent and the prince about one of my visions. The same one I was going to leave to try and prevent.”

That ice crept further along Len’s insides, clutching him fierce like a vice. “What vision?” Len demanded. “What was it about?”

Cisco opened his mouth but a bush rustled to their left and Mick froze. His pointed ears twitched, something Len would have once teased him for, but he knew it meant the other was listening for danger. Perks of having enhanced hearing, he supposed.

“Something’s coming,” Mick said, his voice low for only the three of them to hear.

Lisa lowered the book and tucked the mage close to her as Len moved half in front of her instinctively. She sent him a dirty look that clearly said  _I can take care of myself_  but he shook his head. They didn’t know who was nearby, and revealing Lisa’s magic wasn’t smart. Not when they didn’t know the odds and variables to begin with.

The bushes moved again, the sounds of twigs snapping ringing through the forest, and Mick inclined his head toward Len. Len nodded and the elf grinned, sharp like a wolf. He edged closer, hands curling into fists.

Another rustle, a murmur, and –

Mick raised his fists with a snarl and Lisa held out her hand, the air starting to hum around them. Len turned to tell her to stand down, not  _yet_ , not until –

A tawny rabbit hopped free from the bushes’ grasp, paused to sniff at Mick’s boots for a moment, and scampered off before any of them could react.

Mick cocked his head and Lisa’s hand dropped with a groan. A small snort grabbed Len’s attention, Cisco shaking his head from the front of the book as Lisa turned him around a second time.

“Oh,  _man_ , I really thought – you all were so ready to – ”

“Glad you find this so amusing,” Len said flatly.

“I just – it’s a rabbit! What was it gonna do? Huh? Bite your toes? Have – Have a little nibble on your fingers when you attacked it with tree roots and…” Cisco snickered louder. “Hey, it’s funny, admit it!”

“We could have been facing thieves or royal guards,” Mick sneered. The mage’s laughter started to simmer in the face of Mick’s irritation. “You never know what’s out in these woods. Not everything’s as friendly as me.”

“Yeah, but you know, the last known case of a bunny attack was, well,  _never_.”

Mick stepped toward the book with a growl and a chuckle came from the bushes the rabbit had appeared from. The group tensed and Len reached for his sword as a seven-foot-tall ogre, a humanoid creature with a bulbous nose and periwinkle skin carrying a club with nails drilled into it, emerged from the undergrowth looking pleased as pie.

“I like bunnies,” the ogre said, his voice more gravelly than Mick’s and more carefully utilized, as if he were taking the three – four if they counted Cisco – in before their next move like a queen on a chessboard. “Not very vicious, though. Or good to eat.”

“Fuck,” Cisco whispered under his breath. Lisa pulled him against her chest to muffle the sound, but thankfully the ogre’s attention was elsewhere.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Len addressed the ogre with a calmness he didn’t feel. He held out his hands placatingly, showing that they were nowhere near his sword even if Lisa gave him a nervous look. “We’re just passing through.”

After all, Mick had said the ogres were mostly peaceful. There was no reason to start a fight if none of them wanted to fight in the first place.

The ogre paused and looked Len up and down, his thick fingers tapping idly on the club. “Who said you’d be any trouble, human?”

A twig snapped behind Len and he hardly had a chance to whip around before a massive fist collided with his face, Lisa’s scream the last thing he remembered as he collapsed on his back, the world blinking out of sight like a distant star in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Len, you really have the _worst luck_ , pal.
> 
> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	10. Shot in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ogres like their prey boiled and the boys are, admittedly, idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried to get this one out (and beta-ed by the lovely _Rain_GellerBing_!) before Thanksgiving and my sister's birthday, since I'm visiting family until Monday, so have this gift from me, as thanks for being incredible readers. 
> 
> And we've officially reached the approximate halfway point for this fic so yay!

A gentle hand brushed his cheek, slender fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. The touch was almost unbearably light and he found himself breathing in deep, tasting the crisp air that seemed to thrum in his lungs.

He’d never felt anything like this. He didn’t know why he wasn’t pulling away, wasn’t flinching at the foreign caress.

It had been decades since he’d felt a mother’s touch but he didn’t recognize the hand as his mother’s, nor Lisa’s mother Moira’s. The stranger’s other hand came up to cup his face, a garbled voice calling out from a distance. He thought he could see a glimmer of brown – or was it red? – gazing back at him through the sea of stifling twilight weighing them down.

There was no light here, save for a few pinpricks of light far from where he stood. The darkness was both soothing and oddly disheartening, a comfort and a burden on his shoulders like the world’s heaviest knapsack. He couldn’t see further than the fingers dancing across his cheeks.

For the first time in….well, a very long time, from what he could recall, he felt content.

Yet there was that urgency in his bones, a need to turn and face whoever was trying to reach him. Someone was fighting to reach him, tendrils poking at the back of his sluggish mind and prodding every last nerve because…

He couldn’t remember.

It was growing pitch black the longer he stayed put. He couldn’t see and he couldn’t remember over the buzz in his ears.

He needed to –

_Wake up!_

The stifling musk of something distinctly unwashed hit him like a slap to the face, harsh enough for his face to screw up in distaste and Len opened his eyes to the unpleasant – and upside-down – sight of an unfortunately familiar ogre grinning at him.

Huh.

Definitely preferred the dream.

“He’s awake,” the ogre called over his shoulder. Len’s eyes strayed beyond the ogre to find three others pacing the clearing they were in, one standing beside a large oak with teeth bared down at –

The situation came roaring back to him in crystal clarity and Len sucked in a breath to steady himself as he fixated on Mick’s bruised features. The mottled swelling over his eye had to have come from a swift punch from the snarling ogre if Mick’s returned glare was anything to go by. He looked woozy, as if he’d just woken, and his growl was muffled by a rag tied around his head. The ogres had done a good job of restraining him, copious amounts of rope wrapped around his arms about the base of the tree.

Lisa wasn’t in a much better state, head slumped so her curls fell over her face, but she didn’t look injured aside from the unconsciousness. Her knapsack had been tossed to the side and Cisco was nowhere in sight. Len hoped she’d had the forethought to stuff him in the knapsack before being knocked out. The last thing he wanted was to search the woods for a talking book.

Then again, it’d be hard to do so if he didn’t figure a way out of his own bonds – and away from the boiling cauldron less than a foot below his head. Which…probably explained the smell, actually.

“Still think we should eat the big one first,” the ogre closest to Mick growled. “More meat on ’im.”

“He’s also magic,” the shortest of the group (which wasn’t by more than a couple inches) said. Len didn’t like how close he stood to Lisa with his club. “You ever eaten an elf before? Taste like unripe fruit.”

“Maybe you got a bad elf.”

“Stew’s supposed to taste _good_ , you dolt. No such thing as a bad elf.”

“Tell that to this one.” He kicked Mick’s leg and the elf’s grunt came louder this time.

The smaller ogre hefted the club higher and sneered. “Or maybe – ”

“Enough!” Len did his best not to flinch at the shout so near to his ear and eyed the ogre warily as he jabbed a finger at the three dawdling ogres. “This won’t boil if you keep gabbing.”

The others grumbled under their breath but one of the ogres came over to help with the cauldron and the other two inched back to their positions near Mick and Lisa.

Right. There was no time, then. Len couldn’t allow the three of them to get boiled alive as a feast for a group of ogres.

“You know,” Len said, his nose crinkling automatically as the ogre who knocked him out turned with flared nostrils, eyes narrowing to slits at the interruption, “he has a point.”

“Huh?” The approaching ogre cocked his head, halfway to the cauldron.

“Don’t listen to – ”

“I’ve heard elves don’t taste too good myself,” Len spoke over the ogre, plastering the closest approximation to a friendly smile he could muster on his face. The ropes around his wrists were biting into his skin, definitely not loose enough to squeeze out of. “Too tough to chew through. Though, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I heard your kind weren’t carnivores?”

A meaty hand seized the front of his tunic and hauled him upright, bringing him inches from the ogre, whom he assumed had to be the leader of this hungry lot. His head spun as the blood rushed back down his body and Len leaned back at the yellowed teeth staring back at him. Nope, that unsavory musk was _not_ from the boiling broth beneath him.

“Didn’t use to be,” the ogre huffed. “We lived our lives in peace and prosperity. Our _kind_ never wanted for nothing, and we traded fairly with the humans.” A wistfulness crept over the periwinkle face, dark eyes glazing. The other ogres looked similarly melancholy, though in varying degrees given how eager the one by Mick still looked to bash his head in. “King Henry was a good man. A kind man.”

“Shame,” one of the ogres murmured, “what happened to them.”

“Right.” Len made eye contact with Mick and ignored the trepidation in Mick’s eyes. “Tragic and all.”

“Then,” the hand yanked him closer to the ogre’s darkening expression, the nostalgia slowly replaced by simmering rage, “your regent decided to take matters into his own hands. And you humans are quick to turn on anyone or anything you fear, hmm?”

Len almost felt bad for the ogres. Didn’t excuse the whole cannibalism route, of course, but he couldn’t necessarily blame them for feeling jilted. “Not everyone feels that way,” he tried.

“But it’s enough, isn’t it?” Len opened his mouth, though the ogre had a point, but the grip on his tunic went slack and he swung back down over the cauldron and grimaced at the coarse rub of rope against his ankles. So much for sympathy.

The upside-down snarl moved back into view as he spun back toward their captors. “Get it boiling. I’m starving.”

“You don’t want to – ”

“Keep your mouth shut,” and Len’s mouth pursed against his will, his veins alight with magic, “and don’t move, human. I’ve heard enough outta you.”

Shit. It was the cart in the middle of the path all over again; Len’s limbs locked in place and he couldn’t do more than blink at the scene unfolding before him.

Mick strained against his bindings and gag, but the struggle only earned him a club to his jaw. Lisa’s head began to twitch next to the elf at the noise and unwelcome panic clawed at Len’s chest. Bad taste or not, that wasn’t going to stop the ogres from eating Mick and Lisa next.

If only he could _move_.

“I think it’s bubbling!” Whichever ogre was speaking, they sounded delighted.

Len exhaled through his nose but a small puff of air was all that came out. He bit and scratched at the curse’s bonds, trying to find a loophole, some frayed thread he could tear apart and break free from for _just a moment_ –

“Lower him in,” the lead ogre ordered. “The sooner the better.”

“Least he stopped squirming.”

The steam rising from the cauldron was almost as suffocating as the curse’s hold on him, heat flaring against his cheeks as he felt a jolt through the rope around his ankles. Was the broth getting closer?

He should’ve shut down Lisa’s plan from the start, gotten them both out of Amplewick another way. Maybe convince her to check with Cisco about any threats in the area, since they clearly hadn’t been smart enough to do so earlier. Somehow he hadn’t figured in getting eaten by ogres into the plan, hadn’t thought it _necessary_ to consider.

What a terrible way to die.

Lewis would’ve cackled if he could see them now, one of his children dazed and barely conscious, the other about to be lunch for four unforgiving ogres.

Len fought to at least allow the corners of his mouth to _flutter_ , but his muscles were icicles blistering his bones and every struggle ached worse than one of Lewis’ lessons ever could.

Through the cloud of steam, he heard shouts, felt the ropes around him jerk in surprise, but his senses were foggy and he couldn’t sit up to see who was yelling. The ogres called to one another but the words slipped through his grasp.

It sounded like someone was running. Had Mick broken free from his bonds? Or, if Lisa was awake, had she summoned her magic?

Len hoped she wasn’t overexerting herself. It wasn’t as if he was available to lend a hand.

Wait, those were _hoofbeats_.

One moment he was upside-down over a cauldron, limbs frozen – and in the next Len found himself knocked into the air, the taut rope around his legs gone as he collided with a face-full of dirt.

Well. At least his mouth couldn’t open for _that_.

Then he realized there was still a weight above him, shifting off his waist from where they were straddling him and pulling him onto his back.

Never mind. He’d have gladly accepted a meal of dirt and worms over finding the prince kneeling over him.

Len didn’t have it in him to feel shocked at this point.

“Why am I not surprised?” Barry muttered. Despite his words, the exasperation bleeding into his thin smile gave away his amusement. _Open book_ , Len reminded himself. “I guess I should just be happy you’re not stealing anything this time. I hope.”

A bellow – oh, _that_ was Mick – reached their ears and Barry turned away, his expression hardening as he pushed off of Len’s prone form. He unsheathed his sword and only spared a glance for Len and a quick, “Untie yourself,” before he hurried off to help.

Len hated the way the sudden rigidity vanished at the drop of a hat, leaving him to gasp and spring into action. He kicked off his right boot and pulled the dagger he’d stowed away (for emergencies, he’d told Lisa, and boy was he glad he’d thought to take precautions) with his feet closer so he could cut the ropes over his wrists. The blade nicked his palms and wrists a couple times but he pushed through the flares of pain until the ropes fell away. Alongside the rope burns, those were definitely going to leave a mark.

Now that his head wasn’t clouded, he could see Mick fending off a pair of ogres not too far from where he lay, one hand grabbing a fallen club to bring it down over one ogre’s head. Lisa was indeed waking up, though she was obviously disoriented and struggling to her feet, the oak tree pressed into her back groaning as she tried to track the fight around her. She hadn’t been gagged, unlike Mick, and when she spotted Len, the relief in her expression was evident.

He didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman brandishing a sword beside Barry, however. She looked familiar, but Len was sure he would’ve recognized her had they met before. Though, the full-on armor and protective stance shielding Barry from the ogre bearing down on her gave away her position in a heartbeat. Whoever she was, or why she was there, defending her prince was her first priority.

And speaking of the prince –

Aside from Len’s first meeting with Barry, he had never seen the other use his sword outside of the initial prospect of threatening Len. Not that Len thought Barry incapable, but he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from the easy swing of his blade, clashing with the lead ogre’s club and cutting into the wood of the weapon like fighting was second nature. With his back practically pressed against the guard’s and his eyes narrowed in concentration, Barry was fully in control, confident in every shift of his weight and push back against his enemy.

It was the first time Barry truly looked like a _prince_ rather than a fiddling, quiet presence standing behind his regent.

It also provided a lovely view of his backside.

Len shook himself and stood shakily, pulling on his boot and gritting his teeth against the throbbing of his head as he moved through the clearing. He needed to find his sword. A dagger wouldn’t do much good against seven-foot-tall ogres.

Easier said than done when his world was still tilting off-center.

“Lenny!” Lisa called out, grounding his attention on her strain against the oak. Was it just him, or was the tree beginning to lean forward on its roots? “Get the knapsack!”

“Stay outta the way, Snart,” Mick warned. He’d managed to knock out the one ogre but the other had him pinned on the ground, a knee on his sternum. “Your head doesn’t look so good.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he spat, reaching the knapsack and pulling it toward Lisa’s feet. He held up the dagger and Lisa nodded. The tree seemed to tilt backward at the confirmation, relinquishing its furious tugging.

Len moved to hack at the ropes but a yell from Mick caused him to glance over his shoulder just in time to find the prince’s bodyguard’s opponent swiping his mace at Len’s head. He barely fell back in time, ignoring his sister’s yelp as he landed on her foot, and rolled aside when the ogre followed him away from the tree.

Thankfully, the motion allowed him to spot his sword scattered a few feet away from the knapsack. Their captors must have stuffed it in when tying them up, not deeming it any use when their food was about to be boiled.

“Still hungry, I take it?” Len asked, backing up on his bleeding palms. Not his smartest plan, but it took him closer to his destination. “Real _ogre_ -achievers, aren’t you?”

“Oh, so you really _don’t_ know when to quit,” came a muffled groan from the knapsack, which answered his question regarding the missing mage.

It also served to distract the ogre long enough for Len to lunge for the sword, fumbling for the handle as he rolled around to –

Find multiple tree branches locked around the creature like a makeshift net, webbed bark scratching into his blue-tinged skin as he roared around the angry boughs, leaves whapping him across the face.

Huh.

Lisa collapsed onto her hands and knees with a wince, the ropes falling away as branches gently snapped them off of her, and clucked her tongue like a disapproving mother. “Honestly. Only you would make jokes and _stall_ in the face of danger. Never mind that we’re all fighting for our lives.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Len scolded her, but his sister was no longer listening, brushing herself off as she snatched up the knapsack and peered in at Cisco. The momentary slump of her shoulders bore enough relief for him to rise as well. He wiped his hands off on his trousers and nodded at the ogre still howling in his cage. “What about him?”

Lisa paused but she didn’t turn around, her grip tightening on the straps of the bag. “He can go free when he’s done whining.”

“Lisa – ”

“What would you have done in his shoes, Lenny?”

“ _Not_ eat humans as revenge for Wells’ shit laws?”

Lisa pursed her lips. “Well, we’re not Wells. He was just hungry, they all were. Can’t say I blame them.” Her tone brokered no room for argument.

“Stop! Please!” They spun around at the pleading cry, and Len’s eyebrows rose. Whereas Mick had fought off his attacker – though the ogre was far from unconscious – Barry stood with his sword to the head ogre’s throat, his jaw set as his guard came to stand beside him. The wide eyes of the ogre bore into the prince, bright with misery. “We mean you no harm.”

“So cannibalism is a peaceful gesture now?” The guard’s hand still lay on her sword hilt, as if she were preparing to strike down the ogre if Barry hesitated. “Must’ve missed that note.”

“What are you doing so far in Central Kingdom?” Barry asked, shooting the woman a placating look.

The ogre eyed the blade against his throat. The dark anger in his stare seemed to subside in the face of genuine fear. “We mean no harm,” he repeated.

“If you’re looking for food, you can find it elsewhere,” Barry said. “Not with travelers who mean you no harm likewise.”

“The laws,” the ogre protested weakly, backing farther toward the tree behind him. Though, given the state of his still-struggling comrade, perhaps that was a foolhardy decision. “We have no choice but to find food anywhere we can. We have nowhere to go.”

Barry paused and his brow creased. “What do you mean? Surely your lands – ”

“Taken. Now we are banished thanks to your laws.” Now the bitterness began to inch back into his tone. “Do you know how high the prices on our heads are these days? How long we’ve been in hiding because of crimes we never commit? And you mean to tell us that _we_ are in the wrong?”

The words were eerily similar to Lisa’s moments before. Len felt her eyes on him and kept his gaze turned away. The guard at his side wore a deep-set frown, but she didn’t move, glancing at Barry.

The prince lowered his sword after a beat. Len could see him swallow hard. Barry looked like he wanted to continue questioning the ogre, keep pressing, but resignation won out.

“Go,” he inclined his head toward the other ogres without looking back. The volume of his voice only just carried through the clearing. “Take your friends and find lunch somewhere else.”

Len met Lisa’s eyes and she sighed, her hand raised toward the imprisoned ogre. He didn’t know if Barry or his bodyguard had noticed, but he didn’t want to chance anything.

The formerly-caged ogre surged forward, both from his struggle and fury, as the branches crumbled to dust, and Len hardly had a chance to step aside before he was lifted by his tunic off the ground and shoved onto the bed of leaves forming from the retreating boughs above. Lisa’s eyes blazed as she moved to help but the ogre cast her a sneer and followed his pal to drag the unconscious ogre out of the clearing. Humid warmth encircled him like a shield for a brief moment, and Len got a sense of déjà vu, of comfort he couldn’t name that lingered on the tip of his tongue.

The guard cast them a strange look, but Barry was still watching the ogres’ leader, who still hadn’t budged despite the lack of threat. He sheathed his sword and the ogre’s gaze traced the movement with uncertainty.

“What’s your name?” Barry asked.

It was the ogre’s turn to frown, though he seemed more confused than wary. “Nish.”

“Well, Nish, I promise I’ll…look into these laws. I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

The ogre – Nish, and wow, he’d thought _Leonard Snart_ was an unfortunate name – stared at Barry a moment longer before skirting around the pair, heading after his comrades. Two horses whinnied as they passed, both skittish even as they stayed put. Len would bet all of Lewis’ gold that they belonged to the Barry and the guard.

Said guard turned to Barry the moment the ogres were out of sight but he was already moving, letting out a deep sigh as he made his way over to Len. Lisa pointedly walked over to Mick with her knapsack, though not before sending him a _well, that was interesting_ look.

He definitely had some explaining to do later.

“Are you sure you don’t get a kick out of near-death experiences?” Barry held out a hand to help him to his feet. Len swatted it away and pushed himself up on his own, ignoring the downturned slant of the prince’s mouth.

“I had the situation under control.”

An incredulous laugh left Barry and he shook his head. “I could see that as you were surrounded by those ogres, dangling over a boiling cauldron. Perhaps you were lulling them into a false sense of security.”

“Who’s to say it wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t come barging in?” Len fired back, though there was little heat behind his words. “Always the hero, aren’t you, Scarlet?”

“You could just say ‘thank you’.”

Len smirked. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Barry rolled his eyes and sheathed his sword. “How’d you even manage to piss off a group of ogres anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Those ogres would’ve eaten you if we hadn’t been passing through,” the guard interjected, diverting the conversation as she placed a hand on her hip. Len didn’t miss the fact that she still bore a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of her sword, nor the searching look in the woman’s eyes. The intensity made Len hesitant to meet it at all, but he stood his ground. “Those ogres would’ve eaten you if we hadn’t been passing through.”

“We could’a taken ’em,” Mick grumbled. The manic gleam in his eyes hadn’t faded, even now with the ogres out of sight.

The unimpressed stares of both Barry and his new pal would’ve been amusing if Len wasn’t still tense, assessing the situation. He knew a royal guard wouldn’t let him run off, likely having heard the story about his arrest from the captain, though he hadn’t done anything wrong in her eyes aside from tangling with ogres. But she came off too smart to dismiss the situation. He didn’t like the way she kept eyeing him, as if she were trying to see through his soul.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lisa spoke up, flashing a smile that was both polite and knife-sharp. Barry’s eyes widened and Len had to stifle a chuckle. Did the kid think he was being subtle with his personal guard following his every move? And after that ogre deliberately addressed him? “We appreciate the help, but we ought to be on our way.”

“And where would you be off to?” The guard played along, head snapping toward Lisa. See, quick as a whip, that one. “Why were you cornered by ogres in the first place?”

Len’s lip curled. “Wrong place at the wrong time.” That wrought a snort out of the prince.

“Really?”

The guard didn’t appear to appreciate the humor in the situation, nor Barry’s reaction to it. “Or did you happen to rob them?”

Barry bit his lip and Len wanted to sigh. Again, not subtle at all.

“And what would give you that idea? In case you didn’t notice, miss…?”

“West. _Knight_ West.”

Len’s amusement dissolved. Of _course_ she happened to be related to the captain that arrested him not two days prior. That meant –

“And I assume you’re the same _Snart_ that escaped custody?” she said flatly, a false smile crossing her lips. "Unless your elf friend was shouting about a different Snart, that is."

For fuck’s sake.

Barry made a strangled noise and West glanced at him, but Barry was more preoccupied with gaping at Len. “Snart?”

“Always nice to meet an admirer,” Len drawled, ignoring the way his spine went rigid. “You’ve been talking about me with your father, then, West?”

West didn’t rise to the bait, though she did heave a sigh. Her exasperation was uncannily similar to the way her father had stared him down after catching him in the marketplace. “Unfortunately, yes. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“We were cornered and knocked out. Hardly enough time to steal their weapons or anything of value.” He didn’t like the way Barry was looking at him, something distinctly amiss tickling his gut.

“You didn’t tell me you were famous, Lenny,” Lisa teased. He didn’t have to face her to know that she was trying to stall, change the subject so they wouldn’t focus on questions better left unanswered. She didn’t seem to care enough to snap at him about the arrest, thankfully. Yet another problem he’d have to deal with later on.

West froze, her eyes widening.

“Barry...”

The word was soft, disbelieving, like she was getting ready to scold a child for stealing sweets before bed. West turned to face Barry and she shook her head.

Warning bells went off in the back of his head. Len tried to puzzle out what warranted such a reaction but Lisa’s words didn’t sound overtly suspicious. Not to him, at least.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Iris,” Barry said, cringing when she smacked his arm, releasing her sword long enough to give him a horrified look.

“ _Him_?”

“Wha – Look – ”

“Do _not_ tell me this is the same ‘Len’ you’ve been sneaking out for, Bartholomew.”

Ice shot through Len’s veins and it was Barry’s turn to stiffen by his side. Len didn’t dare shift his weight to read his reaction.

“Excuse me?” Lisa’s eyes were daggers, darting between Len and West. Mick leaned back against the tree, seemingly bored by the mess unfolding before him.

“Barry...” West hadn’t moved, still bent on receiving an answer.

There was a reason Len hadn’t told Barry anything more than necessary on their walks through the forest. A simple nickname and barely any background about his life should’ve done the trick to keep away princes who didn’t need to stick their noses in his business.

He hadn’t counted on Barry telling any guards about their strange meeting – and why had he? How close was he with his servants that he told them about where he went and what he did? Len had figured by _friend_ , Barry meant someone whose _job_ didn’t involve protecting him from people like Len.

“Sneaking out for?” Lisa repeated, folding her arms over her chest.

“Lisa,” Len warned under his breath, but his sister wasn’t a Snart for nothing and obstinance ran in her veins.

“And since when have you and _the prince_ known each other?”

“It was only a few times,” Barry protested, though his voice tapered off when West groaned.

“Wow, you are unbelievable,” she muttered.

“Iris.”

Lisa glared at Len. “Do I even want to know how this happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he told her.

“Clearly.”

“You do know my father is going to _kill_ the both of us when I tell him?” West – Iris, Barry had called her, it suited her better anyway – looked ready to swat the prince again.

“Iris, please – ”

“He’s a _thief_ , Barry! Did you know?”

“I…” Barry’s cheeks flushed the longer Iris’s anger simmered and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

“May – oh, don’t tell me… That day in the forest.” She whirled on Len now and he wondered if she and his sister would’ve gotten on well if they hadn’t been in this situation. “ _You_ robbed that carriage? And _you_ – ” She did slap Barry’s shoulder that time, and Barry offered a sheepish half-smile. “Didn’t _tell me_? You could’ve been hurt, and I was _worried_ , damn it, Barry – ”

“He’s already hurt,” Mick piped up. Whatever headache he’d born before seemed to have faded by now; he looked more alert than he had minutes ago, eyes narrowed on Barry.

Iris gave the elf a dubious once-over. “What?”

“The kid. His shoulder’s bleeding.”

Barry opened his mouth to object, but Len realized what Mick meant in the next second, spying the blooming red over his right shoulder through the tunic. Iris sucked in a sharp breath and pulled him closer to yank the white fabric aside and swore at the wound. With her rant interrupted, concern wriggled its way back onto her face and Len sensed they’d be tabling that argument for the moment.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Iris demanded.

Barry shrugged, frowning at the wound. “I, uh, didn’t notice. Ow, that – don’t _touch_ it!”

“Adrenaline,” Mick mused as Iris continued to prod at the blood with careful fingers, ignoring Barry’s wincing. “Must’ve distracted ya.”

Lisa clasped her hands together and pasted a calculating smile on her face. “Well! Good thing we happen to come prepared.”

Iris tensed. “That won’t be necessary, we – ”

“Nonsense. We have plenty of bandages and we certainly have more than enough to spare. Especially for _royalty_.” His sister’s eyes landed on Len and there was no mistaking the suppressed irritation staring back at him.

Yes, he was definitely going to be on the receiving end of a lecture once they were alone.

“It’s fine.” Barry gently pushed Iris’s hand off his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Len’s throat tightened, though he wasn’t certain why. “You should put something on those bruises anyway.” He tapped the inner skin of Iris’s wrists where Len could see faint marks poking out underneath her armor.

“Barry – ”

“Excellent.” Lisa’s smile widened. “I think I spotted a stream some yards away, if we’re not far from where those ogres jumped us. Lenny,” her tone painted the air with fat brushstrokes of saccharinity, “would you mind patching up our friend the prince there?”

Iris shut her eyes with a long-suffering look Len felt deep in the pit of his soul. He swore he saw Mick hide a smirk.

Lisa was lucky he did actually have the bandages in his own knapsack, though he knew her actions were nowhere near sincere.

“As you wish,” Len drawled, heading off with no more than a glare her direction. Someone – likely Iris – said something in protest but it took less than a moment before he heard footsteps hastening after him.

He definitely heard Mick snickering at his misfortune. Some partner.

***

“It’s a simple diplomatic quest,” he’d assured Iris.

“How hard could it be?” he’d laughed.

Barry was never taking his own advice again, least of all when it came to accepting missions to Giant Country and running into the one person he’d wanted to see before they left, admittedly, who turned out to be the _last_ person he wanted to bandage his wounds right now.

He should’ve known the moment Joe brought up the thief. Hell, he should’ve known once Joe mentioned his name – _With a name like Snart, it’s no surprise he turned to crime_ , Barry had teased, how had he not _known_ – and the suspected magic behind his escape.

Len – Snart – whatever his name was, he wasn’t magical. He certainly wasn’t fae. Barry would’ve known _that_ , and Len likely wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place if he had been. The pink flower in Barry’s pocket, though, had begun buzzing ever since they came across the ogres, since he’d caught sight of Len dangling over that cauldron and he didn’t think before riding into the clearing.

There was _something_ about Len that those voices, the nudges to follow and protect Len, couldn’t give him a straight answer for. Barry didn’t know why magic was so attracted to the thief but he had the sense that he was missing something important.

After all, he hadn’t forgotten the harsh quiver in the air throughout the fight with the ogres that hadn’t come from him. Barry had made sure not to use magic, even while trying to save Len and his friends.

“Stop twitching,” Len grumbled, his low voice bringing him back to the present alongside the twinge of pain as Len paused in wrapping bandages around his shoulder. The pads of his cool, calloused fingers sent occasional sparks rippling under Barry’s skin that had nothing to do with the whispers of magic tugging at the back of his mind.

Barry murmured an apology and settled back against the tree Len had graciously asked (read: ordered) him to prop himself up beside once they’d arrived at the stream. The bark bit into his back but Len’s surprisingly gentle hands helped distract from the pain.

He…wasn’t sure he wanted to know why _Len_ had been told to patch him up.

That was another matter entirely. A very distracting one at that.

He really hoped Len didn’t notice the goosebumps spreading over his skin, ones that had nothing to do with the nice, sunny afternoon.

“So, uh, she seemed…nice,” Barry blurted after a moment, wincing at his lack of tact.

“Hmm, your personal bodyguard? Quite.”

Of course he was going to try and pick a fight. He wouldn’t be Len if he didn’t.

“I meant Lisa. Your sister, right?”

That got Len’s hands to still once more, his blue eyes meeting Barry’s with a flick of his gaze. With their faces inches apart and Barry’s current state of undress, it was difficult to maintain eye contact, especially when Len insisted on staring him down. Maybe he thought he’d wear Barry down if he did, who knew.

Like that had ever worked before.

“Yes.” The reply was curt, sharp. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you bringing her up?”

Barry huffed and shook his head. Not the smartest idea with his head against a tree, but _honestly_ – “I’m just trying to make conversation. You mentioned her before and, well… She seems nice. I guess.”

“Nice.”

“Clearly doesn’t get it from you,” Barry muttered under his breath.

Something Barry was tempted to call a snort left Len but he didn’t spy any amusement in the thief’s expression. Len went back to wrapping the last loop of the bandage around his shoulder, hands gliding over his bare arm.

“Don’t know if I would call Lisa _nice_.”

“What would you call her, then?”

“Immature,” Len grumbled.

Ah. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to be asking about Len’s sister, given their relationship seemed a little…strained. When they walked off, that is.

“You really didn’t tell her about…you know…”

Len frowned, though he didn’t look up from tying off the bandage. “I don’t tell Lisa everything. Something you clearly need to work on with your staff.”

Familiar irritation welled within him, a knee-jerk response he couldn’t quite shove away. “Iris isn’t my _staff_ ,” he bit out, harsher than he intended. “She’s practically family. We grew up together.”

“How sweet,” Len sneered.

“I had to tell her something or she never would’ve let me sneak out of the castle at all,” he reminded Len.

“Something you weren’t obligated to do, need I remind _you_ , because whatever you think this is – it’s not. I don’t need princes following my every move. Surely you can see where the issue would lie there, Barry.”

“I wasn’t following you!” Barry snapped. “Yes, I wanted to find you that third time but I didn’t stalk you. And I don’t think hanging around in the woods and talking counts as _following_ you.”

Len rolled his eyes and Barry couldn’t suppress the twinge deep in his chest. He didn’t expect the sight of Len’s indifference to hurt so much.

Alright, maybe he had grown a _little_ fond of the casual nature of these rendezvouses and sly teasing. So what? Was it wrong to want to act like a normal citizen in his own kingdom for once, someone without the duty to uphold their family name or rule over people who could truly care less about what he had to say?

He’d thought… Well, he’d thought Len had at least been enjoying the banter. He’d seemed to at the time.

Len dropped his hands from the bandage, grazing his arm as he let them fall and fixed Barry with that tense look he never knew how to read. “There. All better. Or do you want me to kiss it as well?”

Barry laughed before he was aware of what he was doing, shifting so he could sit straighter against the tree. “It’s not that serious, really. Though if you’re offering...”

Len’s mouth curled at the corners, the first real smile Barry had seen today. Barry waited for him to pull back, to stand and walk away, insist on returning back to the others – to _Iris_ , oh, she was definitely going to kill him when they had a moment alone. Instead, Len stayed put, tilting his head as he gave Barry’s shirtless form a shameless once-over as if to say _Well…_

He really needed to stop doing things like…that. All these mixed signals – Iris may have gotten something right with all that ‘mooning’ talk after all – were starting to mess with his head.

One of Len’s knuckles skimmed his side and Barry nearly jumped, eyes darting down to the touch. He would’ve thought it an innocent brush if not for the challenge in Len’s gaze.

Was this just a game to him? Wanting him to leave one minute then leaving almost _soft_ caresses the next?

Barry should probably move. Or say something.

“Uh, guess,” Barry cleared his throat, glancing again at the offending hand, which he swore inched closer, “well, about my next question...”

“Oh?” There was a definite tease in his voice.

“You mentioned Lisa knew about your job.” Any hint of a smile dissolved on Len’s face but Barry didn’t let that deter him. “Didn’t say she was a thief too. Or your elf friend.”

Len jerked away, his expression shuttering as he leaned back. Barry felt irrationally angry with himself upon missing Len’s cool touch. “Wasn’t important. And she’s not.”

“Then why – ”

“I do believe that is none of your business, Barry.” Len rose – or, started to. The moment his hands touched the dirt, he grimaced and Barry realized there was _blood_ running down his palms and wrists. He seized Len’s wrists and held on when Len tried to tug away, pulling him closer so he could get a better look.

He must’ve cut himself. Rope burn too, by the look of it. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be much dirt in the scrapes.

“Do you _mind_?” Len’s voice turned unusually snide.

“Were you really not going to say anything, Len?” Barry took the silence as affirmation and sighed. “If that’s even your real name,” he muttered under his breath and pushed himself off the ground, dropping Len’s hands. “Come on.”

Len didn’t move, staring up at him. “What?”

“The stream’s right here. It’s my turn to help you.” _Again_ , he couldn’t help but think pettily.

He wasn’t sure Len would budge for a minute, with the suspicious way he eyed Barry, as if he anticipated being shoved headfirst into the stream or skewered on the spot. Then again, he probably would, given his line of work.

That thought made his chest ache again for an entirely different reason.

Len got to his feet, refusing the hand Barry tried to offer – again – and headed for the stream without another word. Barry glared Len’s back as he followed, snatching his tunic from where he’d tossed it next to Len’s knapsack. His shoulder smarted at the sudden movement but the wound wasn’t as deep as Iris had made it out to be and he brushed the pain off.

“Do you have any other injuries that I should know about?”

“You do realize I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Len said, not turning as he ran his palms through the water, his boots sloshing in the shallow stream. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the man who was about to be eaten by ogres.”

“I had that – ”

“Under control, right,” Barry scoffed, pulling his tunic over his head. He hissed when his shoulder protested again, and tried to be gentler with that side, pushing his arm through the sleeve carefully. The bandage felt weird against the fabric and his skin, but, thankfully, Len hadn’t tied it tight enough to cut off his circulation.

The memory of those deft fingers against his skin shouldn’t have been enough to distract him yet again.

“Head’s a little foggy but I should be fine,” Len replied belatedly, bringing Barry out of his musing on whether he ought to sneak a peek at said fingers. “Just some bumps and bruises.”

“Oh. Uh, good.”

He played with the hem of his tunic as he pulled it down, grimacing at the stains now marring the fabric. Joe and Wells would’ve had a fit if they could see him, dirty and mussed after a fight with ogres alongside a band of maybe-thieves. One definite thief, at the least.

Still, Barry hadn’t ever been outside the castle longer than a few hours, save for trips to other kingdoms that were usually spent by his regent’s side smiling placatingly at royalty, had never slept outdoors until last night and somehow, he felt more alive than he had in years.

A faint answering hum reverberated through his bones, a tickle from the ever-present well of magic, and a smile played at his lips.

“Thank you.”

Barry glanced over at Len, his brow furrowing. “Hmm?”

Len, who now turned so half of him was facing Barry, his hands dripping as he lifted them from the stream, paused. He tilted his head, and Barry swore his shoulders began to droop, though Len didn’t look any less relaxed than he had since the ogre attack.

“Thank you,” Len said, slow, as if he were hesitant to drag out the words. “For helping.”

A burden Barry hadn’t known was weighing down his own shoulders seemed to fly free, released into the canopy of trees like a robin flying home to her babies. He got the sense this wasn’t about the scrapes and bruises.

Barry ducked his head to hide the flush he was sure was smudged across his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad we were nearby. To help.” His tone was supposed to come off playful, but the words sounded far too candid even to his own ears.

Len didn’t speak, but he could feel the thief’s gaze lingering on him still. Barry bent to grab the knapsack, clearing his throat. As if that would help diffuse the charged tension in the air.

“It’s Len.” Barry gave another questioning look and Len sighed. “You asked before. Whether it was my name.”

“Oh.” It’d been more of grumble and less of an inquiry, but Len’s sudden honesty, or supposed honesty, was oddly comforting. “Iris’s father, the captain of the guards, he mentioned Snart was your surname.”

Len didn’t look too surprised at the mention of Joe. “It is.”

“Is ‘Len’ short for something, then?”

There was a hint of amusement poking through the cracks of Len’s façade, and unreasonable pride swept through Barry like a flash flood. “Leonard. Not nearly as bad as _Bartholomew_ , though.”

“Hey, it’s a family name,” Barry chided, but the words came out as a half-laugh as he swung the knapsack onto his good shoulder. “Besides, I don’t think you can really object with _Snart_.”

“Whatever you say, Scarlet.”

“Well!” Barry nearly swore, turning to find a beaming Lisa standing not ten feet away, her hands on her hips. Iris and the elf came up beside her not a moment later, both looking equally disgruntled. “Good to see you two are feeling better.”

Barry struggled not to look sheepish in the face of Iris’s scrutiny (he hoped Lisa hadn’t been standing there for much longer; he really didn’t want to have to explain the last minute to either of them). He suspected he didn’t succeed when his best friend’s expression eased into something close to sympathy.

“All ready?” Len asked. He walked out of the stream, barely giving Barry a passing glance as he accepted the knapsack from him.

“Just about.” Lisa’s eyes gleamed and Barry wondered if Len’s sister was perhaps part dragon with the way her gaze pinned them both to the spot like a predator toying with its prey. “I’d hate to see our new friends leave, but I’m sure wherever they’re heading has to be important. Unless you anticipated taking a long ride from home.”

Oh. He’d almost forgotten about Giant Country.

Barry’s discomfort must’ve been plain because Iris jumped in, walking over to meet Barry. She planted herself between him and Len with a knowing look. He tried not to resemble a child whose hand had gotten caught mid-way to stealing a tart (a situation that had…definitely not happened when he was a child himself). “It is. Though I don’t suppose you’d mind given you’re off on something…equally important.” Iris’s eyes narrowed. “Obviously.”

Lisa’s smile gained an acrid edge. “To each their own.”

“No more carriages, I hope?” Barry tried to sound teasing but Iris just shook her head at him.

At least Len seemed entertained by his attempt to lighten the mood. “Like she said, to each their own.”

“Of course,” Iris grumbled. She laid a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “I guess it would be rude to arrest you after saving your lives.”

“Iris,” Barry admonished her softly, but Lisa just laughed.

“Fairly rude of you, yes. No point in arresting harmless travelers on their way to visit relatives, is there?”

Barry felt rather than saw Iris stiffen beside him, and he wondered if Iris was thinking of Joe’s rant about Len, what he’d mentioned about Len’s father. Len hadn’t brought up his father before; he’d talked about his mother the last time they’d met, named his sister, but Barry had assumed the man was dead.

Though, a disgraced knight turned thief couldn’t be a pleasant conversation topic, he reasoned. Especially when the man was your father.

But it had sounded like Len lived in Amplewick his whole life. At least, that was what Barry had gathered when he mentioned the summer markets and he clearly knew his way through the woods close to the village. Had Len grown up outside Central Kingdom?

“There aren’t many towns to the west,” Iris said, inclining her head as she glanced between the Snart siblings. “None that you’ll make it to before nightfall, in any case.”

“Who said we’d make it there tonight?”

“You’ve packed light.” Iris’s tone went flat, unamused. “At least try and hide it if you’re – ”

“Should be a tavern close by,” the elf interrupted. Barry wasn’t sure what to make of him. He’d never seen an elf before, granted, but he’d always pictured they’d look…well, less intimidating. The way he stared at Barry didn’t render any compassion.

“Mick,” Len sounded exasperated with both of his companions. Also, what kind of elf was named _Mick_?

“What?”

Iris sent Barry a _why do you get me into situations like this_ glare – she’d probably perfected it after decades of knowing him – and he could only smile weakly back.

“Whatever happened to what’s _our_ business – ”

The elf, Mick, grunted, folding his arms over his chest. “If your pals know where the _Dragon_ is, why not ask?”

“Who said they knew?”

“If he doesn’t, the doll probably – ”

“Wait,” Barry held up a hand, his gut sinking as Iris heaved a sigh, muttering something about bad ideas, “the tavern’s called _The Dragon_?”

Lisa looked hesitant for the first time, exchanging a look with her brother who offered no help from what he could decipher. If there _was_ anything to decipher aside from frustration in Len’s face. “It’s _The Black Dragon_ , actually. Do you know it?”

His mother had once had a saying for coincidences, laughing and ruffling his hair as she murmured that they only rolled around when great magic was at hand, greater than even the fae.

Barry was certain he heard high-pitched snickering in the back of his mind now.

“Yes. We’re…” He shrugged off Iris’s hand as he ran a hand down his face. “We’re heading there. As well. In Giant Country, right?”

Mick let out a guffaw and shook his head, but he didn’t bother to answer. Len looked as if he was ready to drown himself in the stream.

“Well, how about that.” Lisa’s lips began to quirk, something coy replacing any trepidation she bore. If she was bothered by this revelation, it didn’t show. “I’d say that sounds like fate to me.”

“Something like that.” Iris glared harder at him and – yeah, Barry regretted speaking. “What family are you meeting in Giant Country?”

“Distant relative. And you, Your Highness?”

“Uh, it’s for – ” He didn’t dare meet Iris’s gaze. “Diplomatic…reasons.”

“Huh.”

“Fascinating,” Len drawled, who looked anything but pleased as he strode over to his sister. “But we ought to be on our way, then.”

“Well, hold on, Lenny,” oh no, “we can’t just leave. Quid pro quo, and all that. What if those ogres come back?” She pouted and Barry remembered trying the same trick on Joe when he wanted to sneak out with Iris to nab some sweets from the market. “If we’re all going the same way – ”

“ _Lisa_.”

“ – then we ought to stick together. After all, there’s strength in numbers. Hmm?”

Iris’s eye twitched. “That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.” Lisa leaned over to Len and whispered something in his ear that made the thief double down on his own glower. Barry had to give credit to Lisa for standing her ground against the murderous look, especially as she turned to face Iris again. “Just for a few days, then we’ll be out of your hair. If you’re so concerned with making sure we don’t get into any trouble, that is.”

“We can make it just fine on our own.”

“Or…” Barry hesitated and looked to Iris. She pinched the skin between her brows.

“Barry, _no_.”

“You said you regretted not bringing more guards,” he hissed quietly.

“Yes, and I didn’t mean three wanted _thieves_!” She pulled him toward the stream, as if that would grant them some semblance of privacy. “Barry, I get why you want to do this but – ”

“It’s not like that,” he protested, his cheeks burning.

“Well, you’re not thinking with your _head_ here.”

“Iris!”

“They’re only going to play nice,” she continued, ignoring his squawk. “You heard my father the other day – Snart managed to weasel himself out of a trip to the dungeons in broad daylight. What makes you think he won’t do worse?”

Barry grimaced, hating the weight of the others’ eyes on him. He could hear them whispering as well, likely berating Lisa for her spur-of-the-moment plan, but he knew they were watching him and Iris like hawks.

 _Wouldn’t you, if it meant life or death?_ taunted his conscience.

“I know him,” Barry assured her, grabbing her shoulders when Iris scoffed and made to turn away. “I mean it. He’s a thief, yes, but he’s never been anything but brutally honest with me. He’s never stolen from me, even before I realized what he was. He’s…”

Barry stole a glance against his better judgment, and a jolt passed through him when he realized Len was staring back already, lips pressed into a thin line.

He should let the matter go, let Iris drag him off on their own road to Giant Country and listen to her this time when she warned him about being too trusting in strangers. He should arrest Len – it wasn’t as if there wasn’t enough proof of his crimes that Barry and others had witnessed.

Len’s scrutiny grew heavier, more uncertain, as if they were a hair’s breadth apart once more, in the alley, against the tree. An uncanny sense of déjà vu struck him, the memory of his own voice whispering, _“Is that what you want?”_

“He’s a good man, Iris,” he said quietly, forcing himself to face her. “I know it doesn’t seem like it but…there’s no harm in traveling with them for a few days. We can always call it off anytime.” She didn’t look impressed. Barry sighed, looking up to the sky. “You can always arrest them if they steal from us?”

Iris studied him, unmoving in his grasp as she let him fidget impatiently. He was tempted to steal another glance toward Len but he knew it wouldn’t help his case if he couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

Which. Not a thought he ought to be having right now.

Or something that would be a problem.

Oh boy.

“My father,” Iris said slowly, “is going to kill us both. As is Wells, if he finds out. I hope you know that, you royal ass.”

Barry chuckled and pulled her into a quick hug. Her resigned pat to his back was more than enough of an acceptance. “I love you too.”

“My life was a lot easier before we were friends.”

Barry leaned back and smiled. “But you wouldn’t have as much fun.”

Iris snorted. “You call this _fun_?”

“I take it we’re good to go?” They turned at Lisa’s bright call, her wide smile telling beside her brother’s cold irritation. At least Mick seemed amused. Maybe that was a good sign?

Barry raised an eyebrow at Iris and she groaned so low he would’ve wondered if she was feeling ill had he not known his friend so well. She marched past him with a shake of her head. “We better set off if we want to put distance between us and those ogres.”

He was probably going to regret this later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	11. Playing a Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which loyalty is questioned and Barry just wants answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on _Rain_GellerBing_ is my official beta for this fic, and she deserves all the love for putting up with my long nonsensical chapters. And terrible scheduling skills since apparently I can't write on a schedule, but y'all knew that already.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Len was used to a certain level of peace and quiet when he left on his father’s self-serving jobs. Mick had never traveled with him far beyond Keystone, claiming that he didn’t like the general atmosphere, and while it was no satisfying task to travel alone running on obedience and frustration, Len had rather liked the quiet.

There was something about walking or riding on his own with only the forest for company that calmed his mind. It was a good time to mull over plans, running them in and out, front and back, until even he grew bored. Len needed time to ensure he knew all the variables going into the situation, even before he arrived in whichever town or village Lewis sent him off to next.

Naturally, it took less than an hour before someone ruined any sense of tranquility.

“Didn’t think taverns were your style,” Mick mused.

Barry frowned and glanced over at the elf. Despite Iris’s discrete – or however discrete you counted hissing at the prince under your breath – urging, he’d insisted on riding by the front of the group, placing him by Len and Mick. He could feel the intensity of her gaze boring holes in the back of his head, but there was no way for her to squeeze between them and that left Lisa with the great pleasure and honor of trying to distract Iris with small talk.

He also found it odd that neither used their mares, choosing to instead guide them through the woods by the reins rather than ride ahead. Granted, Iris was likely following Barry’s lead, no matter how begrudgingly, but Len couldn’t fathom why.

Knowing Barry, everything he did was some sort of test. Was he trying to prove that he and his supposedly friendly guard were going to play nice?

Len didn’t doubt that Barry was reluctant to take action, but he knew the look in Iris West’s eyes, had seen it in her father’s when he had gotten himself caught in the marketplace. If he wasn’t so wary he’d almost be impressed by her resolve. He doubted many guards were allowed to question their future king and get away with it.

“Oh, they’re, uh, not.” Barry grimaced at his own words. “We’re meeting some…people there, though.”

“Giants.” Mick didn’t phrase it as a question, his eyes still fixed on Barry.

“Uh, yes?”

“So you’re off on an errand now?”

“Mick,” Len warned. The last thing he wanted was for Mick to get fired up about royal politics.

“For diplomatic purposes.” Barry’s voice took an incisive edge as well, though he seemed more confused than angry by Mick’s abrasive behavior. “There have been riots, disagreements among their people. The regent,” here Mick barked a laugh and Barry’s frown deepened, “asked me to work with them to find an agreement and facilitate peace.”

“Yeah, I bet he did.”

“What I believe Mick is trying to say,” Lisa called from behind, simper falling into place, “is that while I’m sure your intentions are noble - ”

“Intentions don’t mean shit,” Mick pointed out, ignoring the strained look Lisa sent him. “Giants were peaceful already before this whole mess.”

“I just want to help,” Barry said. “We haven’t met with the giants since - well, since before my parents’ death. I want peace as much as you - ”

“Did he even tell you why they're rioting?”

Barry paused, only for a second, but it was enough confirmation. Len’s skin itched at the memory of the conversation they’d had before the ogre attack, of the possibility that Barry really didn’t know what was happening.

Len believed him when he talked of peace and helping others. As much as he wanted to scoff and roll his eyes at Barry’s little speech, they’d all seen what happened with the ogres. He’d let Len go multiple times without arresting him, even if he believed it was for altruistic purposes Len had no intention of fulfilling. He doubted if Barry did know that he’d be so quick to shut down any argument over Wells’ laws and the kind of man the regent was.

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to have the whole “you’re part fae” conversation a second time, if Barry truly didn’t know he might have magic.

The prince sighed. “He told me enough. But look - ”

“Nothing, then.” Len waited for the elf to berate Barry, or try and pry about his own lineage, but Mick just looked resigned, pushing past Barry and Len to lead the group. “No point in arguing if you can’t see ’em for yourself. Let’s just say there’s a reason ya haven’t seen giants in a long time, kid.”

“I’m really not a kid,” Barry tried, but Mick was already putting distance between them. At least the elf knew when to take a moment and cool down. Barry glanced at Len, his irritation fading as it bled into sheepishness. “He seems…”

“Nice?” Len parroted, reminded of Barry's half-hearted comment about Lisa earlier. Barry chuckled and Len could feel two pairs of eyes boring into the back of his head. He almost wanted to pull Barry aside, away from the others just for a moment so they could have their own conversation.

Which was a bizarre and unrealistic thought.

“I was going to say opinionated.”

“Of course.”

“I can see why you’re friends, though.”

Len raised an eyebrow. He wouldn’t call Mick a friend, necessarily. He didn’t have friends. They’d once been partners - were they technically ex-partners now? - in their line of work, but they didn’t ‘hang out’ or whatever Barry thought friends did. Then again, Barry also claimed to be friends with Iris, so who knew what his definition entailed. “Oh?”

A smile tugged at Barry’s mouth. “You both aren’t afraid to tell people what you think. Which is...good and bad, I suppose.”

“Not something you’re used to?” Len guessed.

Barry shook his head. “The only person I know won’t sugarcoat details is Iris. Even Joe and Wells…” His smile started to slip. “I know they mean well, but sometimes it feels like they treat me like a child and not an adult. Have since my parents died, to be honest.”

Len didn’t know what to do with the uncomfortable pang festering in his chest. His own mother’s death had long since passed and while the memory of her was faint but prominent in the back of his mind, he couldn’t imagine having to lose both parents as a child. Being raised by the regent, or tutors, or even the captain of the castle guards, couldn’t have made for a freeing childhood.

It also cemented Cisco’s little fae theory an inch deeper.

Lisa seemed to be attempting a conversation with Iris, perhaps trying to distract her from guarding Barry from the world, so Len dared to walk closer, his shoulder brushing Barry’s uninjured one. “Well, first step to that is to stop letting people walk all over you. You’re supposed to be king soon, after all.”

That was the wrong thing to say; Barry’s expression fell entirely, a scowl replacing his previous amusement. “Of course.”

The urge to yank Barry off the path away from prying ears rose unbidden once more. Len squashed the idea flat like the troublesome gnat it was and considered Barry, stiffened spine and clenched jaw and all. He hadn’t meant to irritate the prince by implying anything.

Besides, he’d said as much a week or so before, when they’d first met, that Barry ought to take his own stance instead of blindly following orders. All the puzzle pieces were there, right in front of him, the glimmers of hope and determination and pride that Central Kingdom clearly needed in a leader. It wasn’t as if Barry had proved himself to be a brainless oaf after all their little meetings.

As much as Len hated to admit it, for all of Barry’s pestering about doing the right thing and goodness, he could see the potential king deep down, fighting tooth and claw to get out like the prince had in the fight against the ogres, concentrated focus tangible as he dodged and parried their blows with ease. All the speeches and looks he’d given the ogres, the mercy he’d shown where Len was positive the regent would’ve beheaded the group on the spot, were _there_.

None of it explained why Barry looked so upset, though.

“You met any ogres before?” Len changed tactics, watching Barry out of the corner of his eye.

“No. Haven’t exactly been outside enough to meet any.” Barry’s horse nickered and he loosened his grip on the reins to card his free hand through its mane. “Why do you ask?”

“Seemed to know what you were doing back there.”

Len hadn’t anticipated the scoff this earned him, though the gloom receded for a moment. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.” That got Barry to face him again, and Len pressed on before the other could argue. “Not many would’ve been able to take down a group of ogres. Or allow them to leave in peace.”

“I only dealt with the one,” and that familiar splotch of red stained his cheeks even as he protested, “and I’m sure anyone would’ve done that. There has to be some misunderstanding anyway. If what Nish said was true, then scouts are being misinformed. I’ll definitely bring it up to Wells when I get back.”

“Not quite what I meant.” Len kept a leash on his annoyance; it wasn’t Barry’s fault he bore no inkling about his regent’s prejudices. “If you’re going to be king, why not deal with the problem yourself instead of running to your beloved mentor?”

“Because I’m not as knowledgeable about the laws as I ought to be,” Barry admitted and somehow the confirmation stung worse than Cisco’s hypothesis had that afternoon, the uncertain verbal admission opening thousands more doors and questions for Len’s mind to explore that couldn’t be parsed through just yet. “It’s not that I don’t want to be. I do! I just - well, Wells knows what he’s doing. He’s got a method for running the kingdom, dealing with diplomacy, and I’m not…” He winced. “I’m not good at any of it, to be honest. Not even as a prince.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be if you tried.”

“I _have_ tried,” Barry griped. “That’s the whole point of this meeting Wells set up. Another lesson, another test of kingship.” The mocking lilt on the last word was clearly familiar to his tongue, enough for Len to spy Iris frowning in their direction. “As if I haven’t had enough.”

“I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom,” Len said, “but something tells me tests come with the job. They’re not perks, but everyone has their duties and obligations.”

Barry sighed. “It’s not like I asked to become king. I have no say in the matter.”

“Well, thanks to your benevolent regent, there are a lot of people who have no say in the matter,” Len sneered before he could think better of it. “Nobody should be forced to do things they don’t want to do.” He didn’t bother suppressing the bitterness that curled around his last statement, keeping his gaze on the path ahead.

The silence grew heavy, save for the quiet chatter between Lisa and Iris, who at least seemed to be reluctantly warming to talking with his sister. Len could feel the prince’s eyes on the side of his face, scanning his reaction. He was tempted to hasten his strides and put distance between them.

“I know, Len.” He didn’t like how quiet, how thoughtful Barry’s tone strived to sound. “I’m not trying to make myself out to be a victim or some spoiled brat, I just… I know people have it worse than I do. A _lot_ worse, if they’re getting eaten by ogres,” Barry attempted a tease. “Sometimes I wish… I wish I wasn’t me, you know?”

Len did know. His chest ached with the reminder of his curse, of Lewis and his orders, of everything he and Lisa had been robbed of as children and adults, the freedom they would never have. The self-loathing in Barry’s voice seized his throat in a chokehold, familiar and not nearly as numbed to the realization as he would’ve liked, and he looked away so the prince wouldn’t have to see him swallow the lump forming.

“It’s stupid,” Barry continued, either not noticing Len’s reaction or treading lightly because of it, “I know it is. People are starving and poor and stealing.” The corner of his mouth twitched, perhaps unconsciously. “And, woe is me, I live in a castle with servants and wealth and…”

“It’s not stupid, Barry.” He forced himself to meet the other’s gaze, schooling discomfort into an easy mask of indifference. “I’m sure even royalty has its downsides.”

Barry shook his head. Something melancholy, wistful, tugged at his features. “It’s not like that. I - Being king… I feel like it’s more of a fever dream than a responsibility I can handle. When you talked about me running away from my problems...” He glanced back and Len didn’t need to look to know he was eyeing how close the ladies were before Barry lowered his voice to a near-inaudible volume. “I mean, I suppose you weren’t wrong. In a way.”

He could’ve guessed that. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary to come up with an idea where the prince wanted an escape from his secluded life of responsibility and royalty. Or, whatever royalty did to prepare themselves for becoming king.

It wasn’t as if Len had any clue. He was just a thief.

“My point, before we got derailed,” Len said carefully, striving to sound gentle, “is that you’re not helpless. You managed to dissuade a group of ogres from killing some of your loyal citizens.” Barry snorted and Len had the absurd urge to grin. “Or, as loyal as you count us, I guess. But you didn’t need a script or a mentor to help you with that, telling you what to do and what to say. And no matter how either of us feel about your regent, I do admit he has a...point. In sending you out to work diplomacy.”

“A point?”

Len tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

He swore he heard a groan behind them - or maybe it was from up ahead, since Mick couldn’t keep anything to himself these days. Leaning closer as they rounded a bend, he let his voice slip into a more appreciative tone. “You’re not half-bad at negotiation, Barry.”

In spite of his dawning flush, Barry rolled his eyes and laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call talking down a couple ogres from eating a few harmless travelers _diplomacy_.”

“You make it sound like I had to trade something in exchange for your lives.”

“Don’t all great rulers have to at some point? Barter for leverage, that is?”

Barry bit his lip and a curl of heat swept through Len’s stomach. The prince was nowhere near shy, and yet there was something unconsciously coy in his stare. Len wondered if he was even aware of how he looked, cheeks pink and eyes hooded.

There was no mistaking the way Barry tensed as Len brushed his side deliberately, gauging his reaction as his hand grazed Barry’s. He doubted Barry’s stiffness had to do with any sense of fear or mistrust like Iris.

No, they were _well_ past that.

“Is that your roundabout way of calling me great?” The tease came out breathless even as their footsteps slowed.

Len opened his mouth to retort but Iris cleared her throat, suddenly a lot closer than she had been minutes ago. Her unimpressed expression would’ve been amusing had Lisa not glanced between Barry and Len with hawk-like scrutiny, her eyes lighting up after only a moment.

“I know what you’re doing.” To his surprise, Iris addressed Barry, jabbing him in the side with her finger and causing him to squirm and jerk away from Len like he’d been burned.

“Wha - Hey!”

“Honestly, Barry, you are the _least_ subtle man alive. Just because we’re doing _this_ ,” she made a vague gesture, wrinkling her nose, “doesn’t mean I believe you’re thinking straight.”

“ _Iris_ ,” Barry grumbled, his flush darkening.

“And you,” Iris now turned to Len and glared at him, only serving to fuel Lisa’s amusement and Barry’s embarrassment, “don’t think just because you’re absolved of theft right now I’m turning a blind eye to what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing?” Len repeated.

A shadow passed over Iris’s features, her tight-lipped expression hardly twitching. He bore the sense that he was being judged for something he hadn’t done yet, which...well, he couldn’t say he wasn’t used to the feeling. While Iris didn’t seem liable to drawing her sword or arresting them, her unease was palpable mere feet from him.

The protective display over Barry was admirable, he had to admit. Anyone willing to become a knight and protect their friend had to be brave, and rather stubborn to boot, and he couldn’t blame Iris for playing hero against the big bad thief. Especially if -

Len’s jaw clenched before he could dismiss the impulse.

The defensive stance, the constant contact between them both whether it be via embrace or teasing jabs in the side, the bright-eyed, fond look on Barry’s face when he talked about Iris as if…

Well, that explained things.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before. It made sense.

It did.

Len was certain fraternizing with guards wasn’t uncommon. It couldn’t be; he’d heard _plenty_ of stories about the prince of Star Kingdom and where he liked to spend his nights, the women he’d invited into his chambers, both nobles and citizens alike. Somehow he just hadn’t pictured that sort of thing happening with Barry.

Then again, Barry was full of surprises, had been since the day they’d met. Maybe he shouldn’t be have been too shocked, too...whatever it was he felt now that churned his stomach.

He spotted Mick several feet ahead glancing back at them as if to say _Are you done?_  

“I know people like you,” Iris said. She folded her arms over her chest, meeting Len’s gaze head-on. “And if you’re anything like the person Barry says you are - ”

“I swear - _Iris_ \- ”

“ - then you better prove me wrong. I trust him with my life, but I’m sure there’s a damn good reason my father was wary of you, so forgive me if I’m not nearly as _friendly_.” Her tone brokered no remorse.

It was a dismissal, a warning if he ever heard one, and she had every right to tell him to back off. It wasn’t as if he’d known.

Len considered her with a wry smirk, though the action felt weary even to him. Iris’s expression didn’t change, but he thought he saw Lisa’s smile falter.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He didn’t wait for a response, pushing past Barry and Iris and ignoring the exasperated huff behind him.

Mick merely inclined his head in question as Len approached, but Len didn’t respond, overtaking Mick’s lead as they continued onward. He chose to ignore the muttered “You two gonna flirt all day?” under Mick’s breath, even as Mick rolled his eyes at the lack of a response.

They just had to reach Giant Country. According to Cisco’s earlier remarks (he spared a moment to feel sorry for the mage, still stuck in Lisa’s knapsack while his sister itched to bring him out or peek in to check on him) they weren’t too far. It’d only be another day’s walk, leaving them time to find a place to stay at _The Black Dragon_ tomorrow evening.

Though, the thought of having to deal with his fae godmother - and now his stomach churned - as well as giants and nosy princes and their suspicious guards…

At least he had time to come up with a plan. And several backup plans for that plan, since clearly they needed all of them given the unknown variables at play.

Typical, really. Len should’ve guessed it’d only take the prince’s arrival to throw their haphazard semblance of a plan into disarray.

His sister laughed behind him and a soft chuckle followed. Len knew better than to glance back; Lisa had been insistent on letting the pair join them, enough so that he almost wondered if she’d use it as an unintentional command.

(She wouldn’t, of course. Lisa knew better, she always did.)

He didn’t know why she was trying to get close to them, making conversation like it was nothing. They were traveling out of convenience, nothing more. There was no reason to play nice or make friends.

“She’s more interested in getting with the book than with him,” Mick said after a minute, swatting aside some low-hanging boughs.

“Is there a reason why you’re contemplating my sister’s love life?” Len’s drawl thickened alongside his sardonic tone.

“Just saying.”

“The last thing I want to think about right now is her and Cisco.”

“So, you’re not thinking of the prince, then.”

Len kept his face turned away from Mick, his hackles rising before he could tamp down on the feeling. “Who said I was? And what does that have to do with Lisa?”

Mick raised an eyebrow. He pointedly looked back toward the others. “If you’re worried about her flirting - ”

“ _Mick_ ,” if Len wasn’t so tired, he would’ve had more energy to feel something close to embarrassment because _why_ did he encourage these conversations, “she’s not flirting. Even if she was, that’s none of my business.”

“Uh huh.” Mick just stared at him blankly.

“She’s trying to get on my nerves. It’s a game she likes to play.”

“By making you jealous?”

“I’m _not_ jealous,” Len snapped, keeping his voice low. “She’s angry I didn’t tell her so she’s talking with them until I apologize. And she’s trying to get the full story.”

Mick didn’t let up his stare, blinking once, then twice as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Not that his impassive expression gave away any form of astonishment.

Someone else sighed, maybe Iris, and Barry laughed again, teasing her through easier tones than he’d used all afternoon. Iris murmured something quiet and this time Barry laughed louder, causing Len to tense.

The elf clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. “Alright. Whatever you say, boss.” 

Len didn’t have the heart to glower at him, gritting his teeth against the dull ache.

 

***

 

“So,” Lisa said, drawing out the syllable with a gleam in her eyes that only spelled trouble, “Your Highness, how exactly did you say you met my brother, again?”

Barry couldn’t help a glance toward Len and Mick up ahead, both of whom didn’t seem keen on speaking to one another. Hadn’t been since Len left them to hang around the elf further down the path, to be honest. Barry wondered how the Snart siblings had managed to wrangle an elf into traveling with them. Did he live with them? Were all elves as gruff as Mick?

He’d been honest when he spoke with Len earlier: he _did_ feel guilty about not keeping up with the laws of Central Kingdom. It had been difficult enough learning how to control magic and it wasn’t as if the books in the castle library bore much information nowadays on fae and magic itself. Wells claimed the books had been lost or burned long ago, a fact he looked genuinely regretful to relay when a younger Barry had asked after them. Prejudices and lack of practice among royals - since there had never been a fae in the royal family until Barry’s mother, and then Barry - led to disrepair and neglect. It was a miracle anyone like Wells who bore _some_ experience with magic in the past was able to help guide Barry as a child through his frustrating magic lessons.

Maybe there was a possibility Len had a point about turning a blind eye, delegating all responsibilities to Wells.

No, he _did_ have a point. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Barry didn’t know as much about his kingdom, the people he was meant to rule, as he should.

The ogre incident swam at the forefront of his mind like a pesky, persistent gnat. Their leader - Nish, if he remembered correctly - had seemed genuinely distraught, furious over what he claimed were crimes wrongly accused. Joe always said Barry was too trusting, to viable to believe others when they didn’t deserve forgiveness, but there was something about his expression, the curl of his sneer, that made Barry’s gut churn.

He hadn’t planned on killing the ogres in the first place, hadn’t wanted to. Maybe he was simply making excuses by letting them go.

What did Nish mean by “crimes we never commit”? There were numerous ogre raids and attacks recorded since Barry was a child. And after the display with the cauldron and Len nearly being _boiled alive_ he found it hard to believe that these attacks were fabricated.

Barry longed to rub his hands over his face and massage away the headache he could feel at the brink of his senses but Lisa was still looking to him expectantly. Iris’s presence at his side was a comfort at the very least, a familiarity he basked in.

“Why do you want to know?”

Lisa laughed, as if Barry was toying with her, pulling the information she wanted just out of reach on the end of a string. “Why? Because we both know my brother won’t say a word about it. I’ve never seen him look so ready to move on from the conversation.”

“He never told you?” Iris looked skeptical of the whole situation, her hand tightening on Missy’s reins.

“I think I would’ve remembered talking to Lenny about meeting _the prince_.”

“I’m just - ”

“No, I know what you’re saying.” The sharp tone returned, for a brief moment, Lisa’s smile a bite he could feel under his skin without actually touching her.

He wanted to like Lisa. Well, part of him - the part that had accepted Len’s occupation and the whole situation with startling ease - did. Len hadn’t spoken of her much the last time they’d run into each other, when Barry had sought him out. He clearly loved her, even if they both seemed irritated with one another.

Was it weird that they reminded him a little of him and Iris? Not that they were like siblings either or anything, but -

Anyway.

“Sneaking out, though?” Lisa’s smile was definitely forced now. “I suppose I should feel flattered you decided Lenny was worth all that effort.”

Never mind, she was just as bad as Iris.

Barry ignored the pointed raised eyebrow Iris sent him, a clear _I told you so_ , and laughed nervously. “Uh, worth - no, you know what, not getting into...that. And there really wasn’t much sneaking out. We only met about three times before today.”

“Oh, sure,” Lisa said placatingly. “Then I suppose you won’t mind telling the story if it’s so short?”

Barry sighed and recounted the initial run-in with Len in the forest, causing Lisa to laugh when he (sheepishly) mentioned drawing his sword on her brother. He didn’t explain why they were there in the first place, which didn’t help his argument against the whole “sneaking around” idea, but Barry hadn’t even told Len the true nature of where they’d met, just that his mother used to like the forest area. Lisa seemed amused, at the very least, by his story and he found himself relaying the other two instances at her insistence.

He didn’t miss the softening, yet no less _knowing_ look Iris bore as he spoke, her hand subtly squeezing his wrist for a moment before she pretended to look uninterested.

Barry got it. He did.

He knew what the story sounded like, what the whole situation _looked_ like, and how he’d told the story to Iris, despite its many holes, hadn’t been too far off from what could’ve been her laughable “mysterious admirer” story. He could easily guess how she was already interpreting this version.

Barry hadn’t missed the way she’d eyed Len since they’d set off, the scrutiny behind her not-so-subtle threat earlier when she faced the thief down. While he appreciated Iris having his back, the almost sympathetic stare sent an itch down his spine.

It wasn’t until they stopped for the night, less than half a day from Giant Country, and Mick had muttered something low to Len before moving to start a fire, that Barry tugged Iris aside, flashing a smile in response Lisa’s questioning look. She was perceptive enough to join her brother by the budding fire, though the nod she gave him came off more skeptical than assuring.

“You alright?” Iris asked, immediately scanning his face as her shoulders tensed. “You look a little frustrated.”

“It’s not - ” Barry paused to consider the denial on the tip of his tongue and grimaced. “I mean, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

Barry sighed. “It’s not a big deal. I just… I get that you don’t like this. Any of it.” Iris frowned and he struggled not to feel guilty at the shift in her mood. “I’m flying blind as much as you are. But… did you really need to threaten him earlier?”

“Barr,” Iris’s voice lowered, her gaze darting between the trio hovering by the fire and him, “I don’t know what you two’ve talked about, and I can _see_ that there’s _something_ there, though I don’t really want to know what. But no matter how good you think Snart is, I’m not going to ignore whatever he’s done - or stolen - in the past. If he does like you - ”

“You make it sound like we’re children fooling around,” Barry spluttered.

“ - and it seems, well, it seems like he does, then he needs to know you deserve better than someone who’ll hurt him.”

“He’s not going to hurt me, Iris.”

She smiled, slow and sad, as if she’d known this exact argument was coming. “People don’t always mean to hurt others. I’m not saying I don’t believe you when you say he’s good. I believe _you_ believe he’s good. And if those looks he’s been giving you mean anything, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hurt you.” She glanced behind Barry again. He wondered if the others were watching their conversation.

“Len wouldn’t,” Barry said. “Not intentionally, I don’t think.”

“That’s the thing, though!” Iris stepped closer. “Do we actually know anything about him, aside from the fact that he’s a thief and his family members? You’ve only met him a few times. He’s a stranger, an acquaintance.”

Barry opened his mouth to protest but Iris held up a hand, not unkindly, but with that same thin smile that was beginning to make his chest ache. “I want to believe you know him, that you trust him and he’s worth that trust. I do. But the truth is, Barr, we don’t know him as well as you’re making it sound. And until then… No, I won’t trust him.”

He didn’t turn to follow Iris as she laid a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze before she slid past. Lisa’s voice sounded more upbeat behind him, maybe at Iris’s return to the group, and Barry ran a hand over his face, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

Joe had always told him he was too trusting, that not everyone had a big heart like Barry, and whispered to ignore the prejudiced sneers and side-eyes. Barry didn’t try to take any of it to heart, never had, and with Iris’s unspoken promise to protect him as much as he protected her (even if she shook her head every time he not-so-subtly used his magic in public) he hadn’t ever really considered it an issue. Yes, he knew people would always question him, but wasn’t every king questioned at some point for everything from what they wore down to their laws?

The thing was, though, that Iris wasn’t necessarily _wrong_ about her assessment of Len. Barry didn’t know much about him. He didn’t think they were friends, of course not, but he’d hoped...well, he’d hoped they were _something_.

He was starting to think that the thrill of sneaking out was just that - a thrill.

With a bonus of an unfamiliar flutter every time he caught Len’s gaze.

“You gonna stare at the trees all night?”

Barry turned and cast Mick a sheepish smile, which didn’t seem to amuse the elf much. “Wha - oh. Ha, no. I was just… I was thinking,” he said lamely.

“Right.” Mick eyed him for another moment before he walked past, heading for the darkening woods.

“Wait, where are you going?”

It was Mick’s turn to spin around, his disinterest palpable. “More firewood.”

“Already?”

“Shouldn’t be around fire too long,” was all the elf said before he continued walking and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Barry was tempted to run after him - well, maybe not run, it wasn’t as if Mick was going to get in any trouble. He hoped.

The ogres were gone, he reminded himself. They hadn’t looked interested in returning for another meal, and even so, there shouldn’t be any other creatures or bandits nearby.

Besides, Mick looked formidable enough to hold them off if he was attacked.

 _You’re being paranoid_ , Barry scolded, turning his back on where Mick had gone to join the others. _And anyway, you’ll be facing worse than ogres in Giant Country._

Wasn’t that a pleasant thought. 

Unease aside, everyone seemed to be settling into their makeshift camp with little preamble. Iris had taken up a position on a stump by the fire, several feet away from Lisa and Len’s huddle by the flames. The siblings had their head bent in discussion while Lisa rummaged through her knapsack, and he couldn’t tell what they were whispering over but Lisa’s expression had lightened enough for his faint concern for the Snarts’ relationship to fade.

Barry slumped down at the base of Iris’s stump and spared her a tentative smile. She returned it, ruffling his hair before he could protest, and he couldn’t help but squawk, batting aside her hand with a muttered threat of tickling that unticklable side of hers. Iris rolled her eyes but he could see the fatigue and stress beginning to dissolve, armored shoulders drooping.

For the briefest second, part of him regretted asking her to come along. She already had enough stress to deal with on a daily basis; getting saddled with Barry on a diplomatic quest, fighting ogres, and dealing with thieves hadn’t been part of the plan.

“We have food in Missy’s saddlebags,” she offered quietly, though he doubted Iris was lowering her voice so as not to disturb Len and Lisa.

“Later,” Barry promised. They didn’t need to ration their food, but with the additional members of their party, it might be a good idea to save what they could in case the others had little food left even after they reached Giant Country. He’d seen how thin those knapsacks were - they may have medical supplies, but there couldn’t be nearly enough food with them to last more than a few more days.

What kind of trip warranted such little preparation? And to visit a “distant relative”, as Lisa claimed?

As if sensing where his thoughts had gone, Iris sighed, patting his shoulder before she stood and headed for the horses.

It took until they were nearly done with what food they had for dinner for Mick to return. Barry frowned at the small pile of firewood but said nothing when Mick dumped it beside the campfire, hardly wasting a glance on the flames before he declared he was turning in for the night. He made a bed out of leaves closer to Len’s feet, who didn’t seem to mind aside from his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

Barry wasn’t sure if Mick was faking the snoring. Surely no one fell asleep in under twenty minutes?

Len snorted. “He always does this.”

“He’s not pretending?” Barry asked.

“Oh, no. A war could be going on less than a mile away and he’d never hear it.”

“Sounds blissful,” Iris remarked.

“Probably,” Len concurred with a shrug. Barry was half-tempted to smirk. That had to be the closest the two of them had gotten to agreeing and making nice with each other.

Lisa stood, gathering her knapsack in her arms. “Well! In that case, I think it’s about time we hit the hay, hmm? Got a long day tomorrow, after all.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Iris murmured, rubbing her temples.

Well. At least the peace lasted for a few moments.

“I’ll be over there.” Lisa gestured toward a tree a couple feet away, still within the firelight’s glow. She nodded at her brother before turning to Barry and Iris with a wide grin. “See you in the morning, I suppose. Hope you’re an early riser, Your Highness.”

Iris pursed her lips in a poor attempt to suppress a laugh and Barry poked her side again in retaliation. It was a well-known fact around the castle - amongst _all_ the servants, Iris had gleefully told him on more than one occasion - that not only did he bear a tendency to run late to any and all lessons and fittings, but there were multiple instances where Joe had been sent by Wells himself to wake Barry in time for said lessons.

Mornings were not Barry’s friend. 

“One can hope,” Barry said with a strained laugh. “You don’t have to call me that, though. Just Barry’s fine.”

Iris’s amusement visibly wavered but Lisa’s eyes lit up (not literally, though he wouldn’t have been surprised by anything if they started glowing at this point). “Well, good night then, Knight West. _Barry_.”

He could feel Len’s gaze on him as Iris grabbed their own bedrolls without a word, only whispering a goodnight to him as he helped her remove her armor then laid near the fire. Barry murmured assent and watched her settle down, leaving her sword at her side as a precaution. He didn’t bother removing his tunic - it was growing chillier outside and his insides squirmed at the thought of being bare-chested feet away from the others.

Barry didn’t do more than lay under his blanket, listening to the fire crackle and pop. Len shifted a couple times to toss in some more firewood but the man made no move to go to sleep, content to perch by the fire and stare at the stars. Maybe he was used to keeping watch.

He swore he heard Lisa whispering farther away but he guessed that was the exhaustion taking hold. By the time he chanced a look her way, she was curled up by the tree’s base and appeared to be sound asleep.

Iris didn’t fall asleep quite as quickly as Mick had, but it didn’t take long for him to hear her breathing even out, her body relaxing after the weight of a long day. Her back arched as she drifted his way, pressing lightly against his leg, and Barry’s mouth twitched.

“Someone was tired.” Barry tore his eyes toward Len instead, feeling oddly caught. The thief watched Iris breathe softly, his head tilted as he tapped out a rhythm on his thigh. Barry didn’t recognize the pattern but something about those slender fingers moving careful and quick over the beats was mesmerizing, like watching water flow through a stream. “Tough work.”

“Hmm?”

Len nodded to Iris, not taking his eyes off of her even as Barry tried to focus on his face rather than his hands. “Her duty. Can’t be easy.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Barry shifted so he could sit up on his elbows, conscientious enough not to jolt Iris awake unexpectedly. “It’s not.”

“Been looking after you for a while?”

“We’ve always protected each other. She wanted to be a knight long before she got assigned to me. I think Wells and Joe thought she’d have a better time corralling me,” he joked. “Then again, she gets into as much trouble as I do, so that’s not a fair assessment.”

“Somehow I have a feeling it’s because of you.”

“First of all, rude.” Len met Barry’s eyes and a strange sense of triumph curdled his gut. “Though some of those times were caused by her getting into fights with people on my behalf. Which I _did not_ ask her to do.”

“I can picture that.”

Barry shrugged. “Not that they didn’t deserve it. But Joe wasn’t too happy when he realized I didn’t try and stop her.”

“Sounds like a good friend.” Len’s tone was casual but Barry found himself beginning to frown as the other glanced away, studying the embers like they were scrolls upon scrolls of poetry. 

“Yeah. She is. Look…” Barry slid further out from under the blanket despite the shiver that wracked his spine and grimaced at the dirt digging into his palms. He sat upright and brushed his hands off on his trousers, trying to make eye contact with Len even as the man refused to look his way. “I’m… I’m sorry for what she said earlier.”

Len laughed, loud enough for Iris to make a quiet noise and roll over, giving him pause to shake his head as she settled back into her slumber. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But - ”

“Kid, I get it.” Barry tried not to wince at the underlying frigidity in Len’s voice. He wasn’t sure Len was aware it was there at all. “If you expected a little quest to make us all best friends, I don’t know what to tell you. I appreciate the thought but it’s better to forget about it. Alright?”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Barry protested.

“Don’t have to.”

“So you know that I was going to mention how I’m also sorry because she has a point?” Len’s silence spurred him on, and Barry had to suck in a breath through his nose to try and maintain patience. “We don’t know each other. We’ve met three - now four - times, and we barely know anything about each other. It’s not like we’ve known each other for years like Iris and I have. I _want_ to know you, though. Whether you say you’re a good person or not,” Len scoffed and Barry tried not to sigh, “I want to get to know you.”

“No, you don’t.” It came out nearly inaudible but Barry heard it regardless.

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” Barry snapped.

Len shifted, turning so he was face-to-face with Barry despite the feet and fire between them, embers drifting through the air. The shadows playing over Len’s face sent an uncomfortable twinge through his chest.

“I understand,” Len said, slow, as if Barry needed time to process what he was saying, “that you’re used to getting what you want. But let me spell it out for you, _Your Highness_ : we’re not friends. You said it yourself, we’re strangers. This is a trip of convenience and I don’t care if you feel the need to make friends with everyone you come across. This is new and you want to latch onto anyone new.”

“That’s _not_ \- ”

“Furthermore,” and now Len’s tone became cold once more, “it doesn’t matter because we’re not seeing each other. Not again.”

“What, because you’re fleeing to Giant Country? And you accuse _me_ of running from my problems.”

Len’s expression shuttered. It’d been a whim, a half-hearted guess aimed to strike Len as badly as he was attempting (and succeeding) to hurt Barry, but he hadn’t expected it to be _true_.

Was he really running? Why?

Were they running to his father? Was that who the “distant relative” was?

From the way Joe had talked about Len’s father, the man didn’t sound like a good person. Anyone sworn to protect the kingdom who betrayed that promise for jewels and gold couldn’t be golden-hearted. And sure, Len stole but he seemed to at least bear some sort of moral code. As much as he tried to claim he was a terrible person, selfish and only out for himself, Barry’d seen how he interacted with Lisa - when they weren’t arguing, that is.

Barry bore a hunch that he’d only started stealing for Lisa’s sake.

Barry moved out from under the blanket entirely, ignoring Iris’s mumble as she twitched, planting himself beside Len before the man could run off. Len just eyed him, his face giving nothing away.

“I like you,” he said, blunt and candid as he could since beating around the bush didn’t seem to work with Len. His face didn’t change but there was a strange charged quality to the air around them as Barry let the words hang for a couple moments, let them sink in. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. I don’t care that I’m a prince and you’re a thief, I just want to know you. Or, at least for you to give me a chance to know you. I don’t want to force you to like me, though, so… Look, if this really bothers you, you can tell me. But I want a chance, at the very least.”

Len sat there and considered him but he didn’t speak. Maybe he was waiting for Barry to continue, but Barry didn’t budge, kept watching him and waiting.

He meant it. He didn’t care what Iris said, despite the good points she made. If he wanted to be sure Len couldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t hurt him, then he wanted to get to know him.

He… He wanted Len.

And wasn’t that a terrifying, chilling realization in itself?

“Why?” Len spoke finally, the question quiet despite the inches between them. Barry got a sudden sense of deja vu, reminded of earlier when Len had brushed his skin and looked utterly pleased with himself, of the day they’d met when he’d been shoved against a tree and the sharp _What do you want_ that’d followed.

Somehow the word was enough to relax the ball of nerves in Barry’s chest, allowed the panic to recede for a short time. He smiled, and Len’s mask cracked, uncertain surprise shining through the holes he could make out.

“I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe your roguish charm won me over.” The teasing was familiar, instinctive. This he could do.

Even if it was...technically true.

Len chuckled, and while the tension didn’t leave his body, still stiff beside Barry, his shoulders seemed to droop a little. “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh, no, really. All the gold-stealing and arguing?” Barry pretended to fan himself, but he couldn’t hide the curl of his lips. “I’m sure that gets everyone to like you.”

“The guards seemed to think so,” Len drawled and Barry snickered.

“Oh, right. Joe told us about that.”

“You normally this chatty with your guards?”

“Iris and Joe have known me since I was little,” Barry explained. “Joe’s a little like a second father to me.”

Len’s amusement faltered. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were close, then.”

“No. Though Iris is not really a sister to me, I guess.” Barry’s cheeks began to warm and he decided to leave out the fact that he’d been smitten with her for a while. “But we’ve always been close. Like you and your sister. And Mick.”

Len shook his head but he looked more exasperated than annoyed. “Wouldn’t call Mick and I _close_.” His gaze flickered down to the elf by his feet, still snoring up a storm. “Only ran into him recently, and Lisa’s only known him for a day.”

“You just met yesterday?”

“Mick and I have known each other for years,” Len corrected. “We ran into each other yesterday and he’s tagging along.”

“To see this relative of yours,” Barry said.

Len grimaced. “Yes.”

“I’m guessing they’re not someone you’re a fan of?”

The thief didn’t say anything, but his silence was enough confirmation. Barry’s stomach rolled; he really hoped it wasn’t Len’s father they were heading nearer toward.

“Why are you visiting if you don’t like them?” Barry asked.

“Don’t have a choice. Lisa thinks they can...help us with a problem of ours.”

Barry raised an eyebrow. “Is this a problem involving theft?”

Len’s mouth twitched. “Making assumptions, are we? And here I thought you thought better of me, Barry.”

“Why do I bother asking?” Barry grumbled, but they both knew he wasn’t serious.

“But no, to answer your question, it’s not.”

That surprised Barry. Not that he’d thought Len was indeed lying and only wanted to partake in more treasonous activities with Barry as witness, but he hadn’t expected the opposite. It also didn’t explain why Len looked so pained just to admit this. 

“Who are you visiting?”

Len watched him for another beat, as if he were assessing Barry’s merit, and though his expression revealed no distaste - or hid any - Barry couldn’t help but feel like he was on the brink of passing a greater test.

“We’re off,” Len said, his tone cagey and measured, “to see my godmother.” He almost looked startled that he’d said anything at all.

“Your godmother?” Barry turned toward Len further and nearly jerked back when their knees grazed one another. “Wait, does this have anything to do with those bruises you had? Those looked pretty bad. Are you - ” Barry lowered his voice after a second of hesitation, glancing at Mick and Iris, at Lisa’s sleeping form. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No more so than usual.”

“Is it anything we could help with?”

Len smirked, despite the fact that he looked anything but amused, tension already seeping back into his bones. “Are we really playing the white knight card again, Barry?”

“I’m serious! If there’s something I can do, I’m not going to leave you to it and hope for the best.”

“Who was it that called themselves ‘trouble’?”

“Who was it that almost got eaten by ogres and run over by a cart?” Barry countered. 

Len leaned back but he seemed to recognize Barry had a point if his pursed lips were anything to go by. “Doesn’t matter anyway. This isn’t your problem, and I doubt Iris would be willing to do anything to help.”

“You don’t know her like I do.”

Barry immediately regretted speaking; Len’s expression flickered, as if he wanted to sneer but thought better of it. The practiced shrug he gave made something cold clench in his gut.

“True. But trust me on this. This is between my sister and I and my...godmother.” He glanced at the flames, already close to dying, and stood, dumping a couple more sticks into the fire with his back turned to Barry. “It’s late. Ought to get some rest before our big day tomorrow.”

“Len.” He didn’t turn but Barry saw him pause mid-way to grabbing more wood. “I mean it. I just want to help.”

The fire’s dull crackle filled the air, embers flying upward in a cascade as Len tossed the stick in. The noise, barely a couple inches from Mick’s head, didn’t make the elf flinch in the slightest, which...well, it was kind of impressive.

“Get some sleep, Barry.” There was a softer lilt to his voice - though it could’ve been Barry’s imagination. Willful thinking, perhaps. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Only if you get to sleep at some point,” Barry told him and he definitely didn’t imagine the small snort he heard, nor the knowing look on Len’s face as he passed the man. “Wake me up if you want someone else to take over for you.”

“Whatever happened to royalty needing their beauty sleep?”

Barry held up his finger, bending to grab the blanket of his bedroll. “Hey, if those ogres come back, I’m not going to be sleeping through it.”

“How noble,” Len remarked. “I’ll get Mick to poke you awake, don’t worry.”

Barry shook his head but he got into his bedroll listening to the sound of Len’s tending of the flames, the prospect of sleep already starting to claim hold on his mind. He murmured a goodnight and rolled over, careful not to knock into Iris and wake her. He swore he heard Len mutter something in return, but if so it was too quiet for him to hear.

He couldn’t help but think back to what Len’d said of theft, of Joe and his arrest, of something he’d forgotten to ask that was important about the latter and magic, but by the time he wanted to press the subject, rejuvenate the conversation, Barry had long since fallen deep into a well of sleep, dreams of throne rooms and daggers re-emerging from their depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	12. Running Out of Fools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which denial isn’t just a river and Iris is observant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a late holiday gift from me to you ;) Next chapter should be coming...well, probably very soon, once my lovely beta finishes with it. Enjoy.

“Do I even want to know what’s going on?” Len asked, his voice flat as he folded his arms over his chest.

Lisa didn’t bother hiding like Cisco did, blinking momentarily out of existence on his book cover before he returned with a sheepish look. His sister twirled her finger and the bubble floating over her head, poised to splash all over them both, hovered steadily back into the stream with a _pop_ as it touched the surface. It was almost impressive, had she not turned to him with a smug grin, unflinching against his glare.

Honestly, sometimes he wondered why he even tried.

“Famous last words, Lenny.”

“Or yours.” He walked over to the stream bank where she sat, Cisco in her lap, bare feet grazing the water. Her curls were still damp, a light sheen covering her skin, and he guessed she must have gone for an early morning swim or been bathing. Hopefully not under the mage’s gaze. “If I hadn’t found you first, you could’ve - ”

“Lenny.” Lisa’s tone sharpened. “It’s fine. I was careful.”

“Yes, I could see that,” he shot back.

“Hey, stop that,” Cisco said, drawing their gazes to him as he frowned up at Len. “The practice was my idea. Besides, it’s early enough. No one else is up, right?”

Len didn’t answer but Cisco must’ve seen the response lurking behind his stare because his frown deepened, irritation evident. Not that it wasn’t possible for the others to awaken, of course.

Well, not Mick. That elf slept like a log.

But he didn’t know Barry or Iris’s sleeping habits, didn’t know all the variables well enough to be able to judge whether they’d pose a threat to Lisa if it came down to it. He doubted Barry would, especially after Barry all but confirmed he had no clue about whether he had magic and the laws of his own kingdom. And Barry seemed confident enough in Iris’s trust, but he couldn’t be sure, not when there were laws all but banishing Lisa’s very existence in written word, prejudice running rampant through the kingdom.

It didn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Besides, if I’m going to have any chance of turning Cisco back into his beautiful self,” Lisa said, ignoring the way Cisco’s cheeks pinkened, “I’m going to need practice. It’s not as if I know what I’m doing. And who better to teach me?”

“Aren’t you a flatterer.”

“Isn’t there a difference between being a mage and fae?” Len jumped in before Lisa could start purring over Cisco - which wasn’t improbable given the sly gleam in her eyes. “Or, their magic, I suppose.”

Cisco’s head shifted in a way that made him guess the mage would be shrugging if he had shoulders. “Not really. Well, not _too much_ , I should say. There isn’t a difference in the magic itself, rather with how much potential you have to be able to use it at all. Fae have a stronger disposition to magic, since they’re made partially of it, and their culture cultivates magic usage more than humans do. They’re more...attuned to the forces around them, if that makes any sense?” He considered his words for a moment. “Magic’s like a well that fae have exclusive access to, whereas mages like me have to be more careful because we have limited access to its waters.”

“So, you’re saying I’m better at magic than most mages?” Lisa asked, not bothering to conceal her smugness.

“I guess you could see it that way, yeah. I mean, you’ve done more advanced magic with nature and transfiguration - ”

“What?”

“Transfiguration. Like, how you changed me into a book,” Cisco explained. “But, my point is, it takes years to get good with offensive spells and manipulating nature and to be able to turn a whole human into a book - while keeping my face and brain and...my insides, I guess? That’s a big feat of magic. Not many people can say they did that on their first try.”

“Even when I technically didn’t mean to,” Lisa reminded him, a flicker of her own sheepishness brushing her features.

“True. But that only proves how much more powerful fae can be.”

“Any luck with the transfiguration back, then?” Len asked before Cisco could burst into another rant about how fascinating magic was.

Lisa chewed on her lower lip, which he took to mean a hard _no_. “I don’t know. It’s like there’s a mental block between me and Cisco. Or, turning him back into a human, at least. I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Well, you did it once, and with practice, I’m sure we can figure out how you can do it again,” Cisco chimed in, flashing her a pearly grin. “And if not, we can always ask your godmother.”

Len’s blood ran cold. “And _what_ would she have to do with any of this?”

Cisco hesitated and glanced to Lisa but his sister’s brow was furrowed as well. Lisa had never been quite as good at masking her emotions, wearing her heart on her sleeve in spite of how she played them off. It was part of what made her a more open presence than Len, he presumed at least.

But now his sister looked torn between elaborating and lying.

Cisco swallowed and raised his head to meet Len’s gaze, as if he were puffing out his chest to seem more obstinate (or look more ridiculous). “Look, it’s not that hard to figure out. You have to hunt down this relative you’ve never seen before, you only know her name and supposedly she can help break this spell? Even an idiot could figure out that one. Not gonna lie, I always thought fae godmothers were a legend, but hey, anything’s possible. How’d _you_ even get one?”

Lisa hefted Cisco higher into her arms with a sigh, turning him to face her. “He can’t really talk about it, honey. Believe me, we’ve tried that.”

“How - ?”

“And more importantly,” Lisa’s eyes narrowed, “you’re not going to tell anyone about this unless Lenny gives the say-so. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

Cisco looked surprised she bothered to warn him. “Well, I get it, believe me. Godmothers aren’t exactly common, I’m not going to say anything. But why do you need to go after her in the first place? Didn’t she give him a gift?”

Lisa gave him a sour smile, strained and tight. “Did she ever.”

“That bad?”

Lisa glanced at Len in wordless askance. He considered Cisco for a moment before nodding. He supposed there wasn’t any harm in it, not when Cisco had already figured out Sara’s relevance.

“She gave Lenny the gift of obedience,” Lisa said quietly. “Which sounds like a good thing but - ”

“Not when you’re a thief,” Cisco surmised.

“Exactly.”

“How does it work? Like, you have to obey everything they say? Or is it a contest of wills? Do they have to say it out loud or - ”

“Outright commands do the trick,” Len confirmed. He wasn’t sure how much he could say now that Cisco knew - he and Lisa hadn’t experimented much with Len talking about his curse. Maybe the vagueness of the statement was the answer. “Or unintentional ones.”

“So, if I told you to go hug a tree, you’d have to do it?” He didn’t like the mischievous gleam in Cisco’s eyes.

“Not unless you want me to tear out your pages one by one and toss them in the stream.”

Cisco laughed, albeit a tad more nervous than before. “Hey, it’s a hypothetical situation! I’m just trying to understand your gift!”

“Curse more like it.” Len rolled his eyes as Mick approached, not bothering to stifle his heavy footsteps as he marched down the bank and into the water. Cisco’s eyes widened as he tried to poke his head forward to catch a glimpse of Mick and Lisa adjusted him in her lap. Given that Mick was already stripping his tunic, however, he doubted that was the smartest decision. “Though, says a lot about a person’s inhibitions if you can’t control it.”

“For the last time, no, you cannot get me drunk, Mick.”

Mick shrugged, tossing his tunic onto the bank and he washed out his cuts and burns. “Worth a shot.”

Cisco whistled. “Shit, so if I told you to drink something, you’d have to do it? Or would you have to drink _all_ of that drink on the premises?”

“If you’re specific, just that first drink,” Len explained. “Otherwise, I’d need to be told to stop.”

“That… Alright, I get what you’re saying.” Cisco’s brow furrowed. “Wow, that sounds awful. No wonder you got caught in the market.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow at Len and he sighed. Right. He’d forgotten in the mess of everything that they’d been through over the last couple days that he hadn’t explained the arrest to Lisa.

Or to Mick, apparently.

“You got arrested?” The elf glanced at him over his shoulder with a similarly confused (and faintly amused) expression.

“Lewis’ fault,” he said shortly, which was enough for Mick to scowl and nod, dropping the subject.

“Wait, your father?” A skeptical shadow crossed Cisco’s face, the one Len could almost _see_ the gears turning behind as he puzzled out the pieces strewn before him. “Does he know about your gift?”

“He knows how it works. Not why it’s there in the first place.”

“Did he ask you to steal those slippers, then?”

“Does it look like _I_ need slippers, bookworm?”

Lisa clucked her tongue, a clear _Play nice, boys_ reflected in her eyes, and pushed up off the ground to stand. Dirt clung to her clothes but a quick swipe of her hand sent the majority flying. Len wrinkled his nose as some landed on his trousers. “Our father is...not a prime model of parental guidance. Which is why I told you, it likely wasn’t Lenny’s fault he got caught at all.”

“Yeah.” Despite Len’s earlier jab, Cisco looked thoughtful. “I think I’m starting to get that.”

Len frowned. “When did you have time to tell him this?”

Lisa snorted. “Honestly, Lenny, what do you think we were talking about before the little accident in the bedroom?”

Wait -

“You _knew_.” It wasn’t a question, awed accusation layering his voice.

“I’m not _stupid_ ,” she snapped. “Or were you not going to tell me that too? Like you did with Mick and your friendly little prince?”

“She’s got a point,” Mick chimed in, earning him a harsh glower from Len.

“I didn’t tell you about those meetings - ”

“Oh,” Lisa scoffed, “is _that_ what we’re calling them?”

“ - because you _didn’t need to know_. I was going to tell you about the arrest, but that was before we were busy fighting off bandits and ogres.”

“You didn’t think it was important that I ought to know about someone who could’ve taken us away from that house or someone you’re _clearly_ infatuated with - ”

“ _Lisa_ ,” Len growled. “That’s enough.”

She straightened her spine and he heard a soft “Oh, no” from Cisco in her arms before she poked Len in the chest _hard_ , her eyes blazing. Len swore the air around them thickened, like a humid summer day with no cool breeze to ease any suffering of those out and about.

“No, you know what? I’m sick and tired of you deciding what I need to know. Whatever happened to not _lying_ to me, Lenny?”

“I didn’t lie,” he protested. “I was planning on telling you - ”

“When? Before you were sent out on another job? After we were done trying to get rid of this spell? Or your curse?” The tree boughs trembled above them and even Mick stopped washing his chest to stare as a few stray leaves were shaken down to the ground below. “We’re supposed to be in this _together_ , and I can’t help you if you’re treating me like a child! Did you ever think of that?”

“Lisa,” Cisco tried, glancing at the swaying trees. “Maybe you should - ”

“I know what he’s like better than anyone,” Lisa continued, her teeth almost grinding together with every word in mimicry with the groan of the wind around them. “I’m a _prisoner_ in that house and you didn’t think discussing any ideas about how we could get out - how we could’ve been _free_ \- would be important to me? I’m not fucking _helpless_.”

“Clearly,” Mick murmured.

“I never said you were,” Len assured her, though she didn’t look any less pleased with him. “And I am sorry for that. But you didn’t see him every time I came up with a plan, Lise. He’s not stupid; I had to take precautions to ensure we even had the chance to stay in contact with Mick at all. There was no point in giving you false hope once - ” He glanced Mick’s way but the elf just made a face. “Well, once we lost Mick as an option.”

Lisa inhaled deeply and Len _felt_ the earth beneath his boots quake for a moment, heard the trees moan with the wind whipping through their branches before all went still and held its breath alongside Lisa’s contemplation. If Len had thought Cisco’s eyes were wide before, they were almost bugging out of his head at this point in wonder and slight terror. Even Mick looked impressed.

Memories of vines and Lisa’s horror-filled expression, sniffing and curled in on herself as she tried to calm down, tried to remember happy moments rather than the bad, swam before his eyes and Len took a breath of his own, albeit shakier than he would’ve liked.

He wasn’t scared of Lisa.

No, he would never be _scared_ of her, not his sister.

But her magic? The tremors running through his bones from the painless effort it took to wield such power?

Len schooled his face the best he could, hiding those wayward signs she’d pick up on in a heartbeat. Lisa’s anger was valid, as were her concerns, he had to admit, but the last thing she needed was to spy fear from her own brother.

Even if it wasn’t _her_ that made his veins itch, the invisible sense of magic binding his limbs and controlling him like a puppet nagging at him even now.

Lisa opened her eyes and he swore he saw a glint of gold behind her eyes, webbing alongside her irises. The gold was gone the moment he blinked, and his sister pursed her lips, staring him unflinchingly in the eye. He wondered whether she’d noticed her unintentional display of power at all.

“No more lying,” she said, low for only them to hear. The exhaustion in her tone didn’t come from the magic receding around them. “No more secrets. Alright?”

The commands weren’t direct, thankfully not sinking in the way he feared, but he nodded regardless. Only then did Lisa relax fully, taking another steadying breath.

Footsteps hurrying their way broke the moment and Len tensed all over again, sending Lisa a meaningful glance toward Cisco’s face, and she murmured an apology before turning the book around and pressing him to her. It sounded like Mick stifled a laugh, wading through the water closer to the banks of the stream.

Iris wasn’t running when she came into view, but there was trepidation about her expression, her hand on her sword hilt as she took in the scene. She looked more alert than Len’d expected - not a sign that she’d woken up mere minutes ago - though she wasn’t wearing any armor aside from her sword belt, her hair still tangled.

“Brave move, leaving the prince on his own,” Len couldn’t help but drawl. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lisa roll hers, muttering something about being ridiculous.

Iris seemed to bear a similar train of thought as his sister; she sheathed her sword and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Barry _can_ take care of himself for five minutes. Though, that’s debatable seeing as that’s how he met you.”

Mick definitely laughed under his breath. Len had to admire her backbone. “To each their own. What’s with the distress? Where’s the fire?”

Her face twisted with indecision. Iris glanced to Mick (though she looked away quickly when she realized he was bare-chested) and then Lisa, sparing one puzzled glance for the thick book in her arms, but whatever she was searching for must not have been there. She sighed and shook her head.

“Nothing.” Iris’s shoulders drooped. “Sounded like there was some sort of storm coming, and I realized half of the party was missing at the same time I heard voices. Figured I ought to check it out given our track record with unsavory friends in the forest.”

“Aw, you didn’t need to worry,” Lisa simpered. Her grin looked strained after the previous argument, bu if Iris noticed, she gave no indication. “We just went to bathe before we got back on the path.”

“I can see that,” Iris said slowly. “What’s with the book, though?”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond when more footsteps drew nearer, and Barry came to stand by Iris, rubbing his eyes with one hand. _He_ , unlike Iris, must’ve just woken up, his hair still mussed and half-awake. Len resisted the urge to smirk; someone wasn’t a morning person.

“You ran off,” Barry mumbled. “What’s going on?”

“Got a good night’s sleep, Your Highness?” Lisa asked, familiar smugness tugging at the corners of her mouth causing Len’s amusement to dissipate. He _knew_ she hadn’t been fully asleep last night.

Barry gave a half-hearted shrug, lowering his hand as he started to focus on the group. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I…”

Barry straightened, his eyes narrowing, though he didn’t seem to be looking at Lisa anymore despite the direction of his gaze. It was almost as if he was zoning out. Lisa’s grin wavered when he didn’t continue speaking.

Come to think of it, this wasn’t the first time Barry had done this. Len remembered their meeting in the clearing, how Barry had tried to come up with an argument for letting Len go and trailed off, staring into the forest like he was listening to a distant song only he could hear.

Iris tensed and nudged Barry’s arm, her suspicion mixed with concern. He started and cast her a smile, sheepish amidst silent reassurance. “Sorry. Uh, just…” His hand drifted to his trouser pocket and the smile twitched, becoming more of a grimace. “I think I’m still a little out of it. Had a long day.”

Lisa nodded, not looking the least bit convinced. “Of course. I suppose if we’re all up that means we’ll be ready to go soon, then?”

Iris and Barry exchanged another look and Barry’s smile came off more genuine this time when he turned back to the group, his gaze flitting to Len for a brief second. “Yeah. We’ve got enough food for a short breakfast, I think.”

“Excellent.” Lisa hiked up the bank of the stream, ensuring that Cisco was pressed close to her, facing away from the prying eyes of Iris and Barry as she passed them. “Well, I suppose we’d better get to it!”

Mick waggled his eyebrows at Len as he walked by, scooping his tunic off the ground, and Len could only shake his head as he followed. Iris still eyed them both with uncertainty, but seemed more concerned with Barry’s dazed state than finding out whatever they’d been up to down by the stream.

Honestly, if they’d been about to skip out on the pair, or rob them of their possessions and gold, Len at least would’ve come up with a better plan than running off before dawn.

Barry’s mouth quirked up at the ends as he passed despite the strange look in his eye that hadn’t yet faded, and Len allowed his own smirk to return. Just a little, enough for that lovely shade of red to begin staining Barry’s cheeks.

Enough for Iris to take notice and push Barry, albeit playfully, after the others while rolling her eyes at Len.

Ah.

Of course.

He needed to stop fooling around, focus on the quest at hand and the stakes in play, especially when he had -

Well, he had no claim. Never had any at all.

 

***

 

The woods weren’t difficult to navigate. Central Kingdom was a sizable plot of land, one of the largest kingdoms compared to those nearby, but once you knew each forest, spent time traipsing through each town, it grew easy to spot landmarks, areas marked by either magic left untouched or man-made imprints. The mortal eye wasn’t keen enough, didn’t bear the observational skills necessary, to spot the lingering magic, hear how it hissed and nipped at his senses in distaste when he strode through the forest undergrowth, swatting aside some of the thicker bushes.

He’d sent out word to those he was still in-contact with, those he hadn’t seen in years but trusted enough to help him on his quest.

Or, rather, the quest of those he trailed after at a distance.

He had to say that he was impressed his own diversions had yet to come into play and yet the prince had already been derailed at least a day off his original destination. Not that he’d appeared to have noticed. He couldn’t have predicted better timing for an ogre attack - even if those involved had been...unexpected, to say the least.

Zolomon recognized the elf from previous journeys abroad in the kingdom; he appeared to be some sort of wanderlust character, highly unlike most of his species who as far as he knew remained stagnant in their realms. Elves were more viable to travel, given how alike they were to humans physically, but they were a reserved species, almost as much as fae.

Though, the fae had more important reasons to go into hiding, he supposed.

The woman he didn’t know. She was clearly the man’s sister, with their amiability and similar features, but he didn’t recognize her face. The air of magic blanketing her, though, weighing almost as heavily as the prince’s did on his shoulders, was _highly_ recognizable.

Strange. He hadn’t known there were many fae left traveling out and about. Most with common sense hid the second they felt his presence, some attempting to masquerade as humans and binding their wings while their auras gave them away.

Zolomon spotted no wings on this one, though. She didn’t seem to be in any pain either, so that left binding out.

Even more fascinating. A half-fae, then?

Either way, the prince didn’t appear to have noticed her power yet, or if he did, he had yet to acknowledge it. He smiled now, letting her tease him, his blush a tell-tale sign even at this distance. Zolomon paused by the nearest tree trunk, watching the prince’s guard shake her head at their antics. She seemed to be warming to the other woman, despite her clear reservations.

The man, however, he knew quite well by name. Zolomon remembered his father, the corrupt knight who turned to a life of crime in lieu of duty. It’d been before he was brought into his mage’s service, before he owed his life to the man.

Leonard Snart wasn’t a common name whispered through the kingdom, but he knew that face from the prince’s little meetings in the forest, that self-serving smirk. He’d heard rumors of the man’s deeds days before he left to follow the prince on his quest and somehow he couldn’t bring himself to be astonished by the connection to this man.

Whatever was he doing with a fae in the middle of the woods, running from ogres and traveling with elves, made his presence all the more fascinating.

This certainly complicated matters, of course. The mage wouldn’t be too pleased to hear that the prince was still seeing the wanted thief, nor that he was _traveling_ with one - or three, if the elf and fae were also thieves, he hadn’t confirmed that yet, though he was sure they had to be - but this did give them an advantage. All he had to do was keep them occupied for the time being - and what better place to do so than Giant Country?

He was certain this ragtag group would _adore_ meeting some of his shadier contacts.

And he so did hope his allies showed soon.

A smirk curled across his mouth, pale and taut as he watched the prince glance back at the thief, who gave him his own exasperated grin in response. It was strange enough, bemusement aside, Zolomon paused to wonder what _did_ a thief stand to gain from playing nice with the prince. He didn’t seem to lust for gold, nor power, though Zolomon supposed the fae and elf’s presences could’ve been signs of such. After all, if Snart knew the prince as well as he appeared to, he had to know the potential of what he’d be turning down.

This would be a complication. Certainly.

But he had a feeling, a hunch in his ageless bones, that those smiles meant more than either man admitted, their brushing limbs enough to get the knight and the fae to roll their eyes behind their backs.

He also had a feeling that while the mage would not be pleased to learn of the continued distractions, he’d be far more entertained to hear of the involvement with these new _companions_.

 

***

 

The remainder of the morning came and went, rolling into afternoon like a tumultuous sea - an accurate comparison when taking into account the argument Iris had nearly started with Mick when he tried to start a small fire to cook their lunch. Lisa watched from a distance, pursing her lips to hide a laugh, but the strange shadow passing over Len’s face had been enough for Barry to step in and calm them both down.

Or, to calm Iris down, that is. Mick just grunted and eyed Barry with the same skepticism he’d born since they’d started traveling and made a point to eat on the opposite end of the clearing from them.

Yeah. He was starting to get the sense Mick didn’t like him.

Which - well, that was fine. He supposed. Barry wasn’t sure what to make of the elf in the first place, but it would be nice if they could get along in the very least.

Lisa, on the other hand, was the polar opposite of Mick. While he wasn’t sure calling her “friendly” would suffice - he knew Len well enough not to trust that familiar smirk nor that mischievous glint in her eyes every time she leaned forward to ask Barry a question - he did like her. He could definitely see the similarities between Len and Lisa in their movements, their silent exchanges he didn’t quite understand, and the way they spoke, as if the pair were constantly putting on a show for the group. A depressing thought, now that Barry registered it.

Still, Lisa was sociable and seemed more keen on getting to know him and Iris than Mick, or even her own brother, and Barry found himself relaxing around her more and more despite himself and the wary looks Iris sent the woman’s way. Barry shied away from questions about his childhood and Wells, as did Lisa with her own home life, but it was easy to discuss what it was like living in the castle, what he liked about Amplewick and what he remembered of its markets. He wasn’t sure why but he felt a weird kinship with Lisa, not unlike the one he shared with Iris, though the feeling was not enough for him stray and mention his mother’s visits with him to Amplewick’s woods, a fact Len appeared to notice with his gaze burning through the back of Barry’s head.

He wanted to bring up the feeling to Iris, or perhaps Len though how he’d explain the tug in his gut he continued to puzzle over, but there was little time to speak to her in private, even with their stops to eat or Iris’s insistence on checking they hadn’t wandered from the path (“do we really need _more_ proof that traveling through these woods is dangerous, Barry?”). Barry couldn’t pin it down, what nagged at him every time he thought back to earlier that morning, when he’d followed Iris and stumbled upon -

Well. He didn’t know how to quantify what he’d seen in words.

There was no easy way to describe the cacophony of whispers, building low and deep within the earth’s very roots, as if they’d been buried for centuries and had been cut from their tethers, surrounding the group in a simmering storm, emanating from the core of _Lisa_ , who looked like she was glowing for a brief instant, enough for the flower, still in his pocket, to pulse with energy.

Barry had never seen anything like that before, hadn’t had the courage to pursue questioning it when he’d just woken, trying to push the sensation aside. But the whispers had persisted since, nipping at his ears whenever Lisa got too close, as if a dam had broken loose and he was the only witness to the aftermath. Every time she laughed, the voices giggled too in mimicry, and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh alongside them or flinch.

Barry didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He didn’t. It wasn’t as if he’d met many - well, if Lisa was who - _what_ \- he suspected she was…

Surely that would’ve come up before, though. Len didn’t appear to notice anything strange, nor Mick and Iris, who had muttered that the group had been busy bathing when she went off to investigate their absence.

Maybe he was overreacting.

Magic liked to play tricks sometimes, after all. He’d been accosted with the urge to follow Len, or at least to ensure he didn’t lose the man, thanks to the incessant nudges of those voices. The proximity to not only Len but also to his sister could be messing with his senses.

Or it could be anxiety over how close they were, cresting the hill of Giant Country’s towns spread below as the sun began its slow descent behind the horizon, the prickling of his skin that itched for him to do _something_ , _anything_ , _run_ as the other neighboring hills obscured their view of most of the valley.

He hadn’t felt anything close to that itch since before his mother died, since the urge to _run and leave everything behind in the dust_ after -

“Wow,” Iris murmured, driving him out of his own head long enough to take in their surroundings as she gave an appreciative whistle. “Alright, this is pretty.” 

Barry had to admit that he was impressed too by the scenery. There were few spread-out open valleys in Central Kingdom; Barry remembered pouring over maps when he was littler, admiring all the distant mountains and kingdoms built by far off seasides. Not that he thought his own kingdom was bland or dull to look upon!

But Central’s forests and clustered towns and villages were nothing to the sprawling meadows and valleys before them now, towns with enormous heads towering above the rooftops, their faces visible as they squinted against the setting sun, limbs guiding them slowly down the cobbled streets. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the sun’s setting rays scatter and glint off of the roofs. The lush meadows below, pops of various colors waving up at him as the wind blew through gently, seemed to stretch on forever.

If this was where the _giants_ lived, then what did an elven village look like? Or a realm belonging to the fae?

Was this similar to what his mother had grown up seeing as a child? The sheer, unadulterated beauty of nature?

That thought hit him hardest: Barry couldn’t suppress the rush of _longing_ that swept through his chest like a tidal wave and had to blink away the moisture building in his eyes.

“Did you expect it to be dark and gloomy?” Len teased. He didn’t seem quite as awed as Barry and Iris, or even Lisa who was still staring.

Iris shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just...different, I guess.”

“Huh.” Lisa’s voice caused Barry to tense before he could think better of it, his head swiveling to find her pout as she tilted her head down at the town in the distance. “Somehow, I pictured a _giant_ country being...well, you know. _Giant_.”

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Giants ain’t the best builders.”

Iris snorted, eyeing the houses nearby, made of foundations of oak rather than the stone and rock further off. “They also look small. Are giants supposed to live in normal-sized homes? This place looks empty.”

A noise like rolling thunder echoed throughout the countryside, startling them all, repeating in succession as the earth trembled, and for a moment Barry had visions of past wails, endless cries that pressed and tore at his mind, the faint but distinct stench of blood engulfing his senses. He gritted his teeth, hearing similar shouts from the others as they made their way left toward the sound, over their hill and -

Iris made a quiet noise of her own, not unlike the strangled cries he’d heard, and Barry couldn’t blame her, spotted Lisa stiffening by her brother’s side as she came up beside them.

The valleys and fields enveloping Giant Country, the ones that Barry had thought of as obscured from view and bared to the rest of the kingdom in their beauty were… Well, they certainly were neither.

Not when you had at least a hundred giants crowded in fields, sowing crops with bent backs and their eyes downcast, bare flesh reddened from the sun’s heat and mingled scars of white and angry red that seared through their tattered tunics. Guard towers were set up at every row, humans roaming across their platforms like ants, swords and sneers hand in hand as they shouted orders eye level with the giants.

Barry’s stomach dropped and bile tickled the back of his throat. He stumbled backward; he felt as if he were disassociating, leaving behind his body for a minute or two to process whatever _this_ was he was seeing.

“What,” Lisa said, low and icy, sounding far too much like her brother for a moment, “the _hell_ is this?”

Mick grimaced. “Told ya. Giants don’t have time for much else these days, and certainly not building houses. Shame, though. They were the most peaceful species of us all.”

“It’s _horrible_.”

“Why are they being treated like - ?” Iris cut herself off with a harsh intake, unable to finish the question.

“Laws change. Need for labor workers and all that. Or so I’m told...”

Barry could _feel_ Mick - all of them - turning to look at him. He shook his head, a shaky, hysterical sound escaping him. It might’ve been a laugh, he wasn’t sure. “I - That can’t be. The giants are meant to be peaceful, but… Is this why they’re rioting? Because of…”

“Probably one of the reasons,” Mick said, blunt as ever.

“Wells couldn’t know about this,” Barry whispered. “He - no, he _couldn’t_. Not all the laws have been around since - there has to be an explanation for this. He wouldn’t stand for this. We’re all about protection and peace. These have to be new laws in Giant Country.”

Mick didn’t say anything but the silence was telling enough. A trickle of voices hissed at the back of his mind again, of the _fury_ of creatures come and gone and all that these hills and valleys had seen.

Barry shoved down the rising, squirming guilt, sucking in a deep breath. Iris gave him a questioning look and he shook his head, plastering a thin smile on his face to show he was fine.

Though, _fine_ was a calm way of putting it when you were struck with the realization of _oh, it’s time to meet these impossibly tall, miserable giants, and there’s clearly no need to worry at all_.

Especially not when his gut told him that these riots were a far bigger issue than he’d imagined tackling.

“Well,” he said, hating how his voice wavered initially, “I guess we’d better… Head down and find the tavern. Meet our hosts.”

Thankfully, the group was more than happy to turn away from the snarls and groans, not wanting to protest. Barry didn’t meet their gazes as they passed him.

Iris hung back to give his shoulder a squeeze, a silent _are you alright_ , and he sent her that smile again, hoping she wouldn’t press as he tugged on the reins of his mare Nora.

He swore he felt Len’s eyes on the back of his head the further they hiked down into town, as if searching for some sign of recognition over what they’d just seen that Barry couldn’t give him. He couldn’t discern whether the man was trying to accuse him of, or perhaps Wells - and that made his stomach churn because he _refused_ to believe that Wells was the culprit, not the man who’d shown him how to control magic in the first place, how to reign in his emotions so he didn’t set an army of bees on his tutor (a total accident, though in his defense he’d been _seven_ and bored). This was the same man who had helped Joe and Iris comfort Barry after his parents died, had once embraced him after a nightmare and assured that he’d do everything to make sure Barry was the king his parents knew he could be.

No. It _couldn’t_ be Wells.

No matter how much Len and even Mick disliked the regent, Barry _knew_ the man, had grown up with him long before he took over royal duties, and he was diplomatic with any and all magical creatures that had come to the castle for aid. He had _sent_ Barry here in hopes of quelling the riots and had even mentioned that he “hoped the gentle giants would be a great learning tool” for Barry’s future reign.

 _Unless he was the reason why they’re so “gentle” now_ , a small voice growled in the dark recesses of his mind.

He didn’t know all the details, Barry reminded himself. He was certain Wells couldn’t know of what he’d seen, or maybe that’d been part of the riots he’d mentioned and _he_ hadn’t known the specifics at the time.

By the time they made it into the town itself, darting around the giant boots and feet unaware of their much smaller forms, Barry had a massive migraine. He made sure to keep Nora to his left, out of oncoming foot traffic, but it was hard to concentrate when his own thoughts were vying for attention, distracting him. Barry would have nearly walked into the road and the path of a huge shoe, had Len not yanked him to the side by the back of his tunic. He had to wince when a dust cloud bloomed from where the giant stepped, where he had almost been flattened, and patted Nora’s nose as she whinnied softly.

“Better keep your head up around here,” Len murmured. “And your eyes.”

“Thanks.” Barry glanced back at him, feeling his cheeks burn as he realized Len hadn’t let go of his tunic yet, his knuckles warm against the fabric and Barry’s skin underneath. Though, it wasn’t quite so pleasant when Len’s side brushed his wounded shoulder. “I wasn’t… I didn’t see him.”

Len’s brow furrowed, though he looked more lost in thought than accusing like Barry had feared. “I could see that.”

“Boys!” Lisa’s call startled Barry enough for Len’s grip to loosen, and ultimately release Barry’s tunic, and he tried to pretend he didn’t miss the light warmth brushing his back. Len spared him a brief look before sweeping past and Barry let out an embarrassed huff of relief.

The rest of the party had made it to the end of the road, Lisa standing with her hands on her hips under a dark wooden sign swaying in the breeze high above her head, creaking horrendously loud. Barry couldn’t bring himself to meet the knowing gleam in Lisa’s eyes as they approached.

“Seems we found it,” Len mused, prompting Barry to take another look at the sign and _oh_ , those dark splotches weren’t stains, but rather a winding dragon’s tail, chunky script resting above the crudely painted dragon head: _The Black Dragon_.

“How conveniently timed,” Iris said flatly, looking directly at Barry as well. He tried not to look sheepish.

A rumble of thunder echoed, real this time and loud enough that Barry almost mistook it for the passing giants’ footsteps, but then a second rumble came and a couple of giants paused to stare up at the sky, holding out their hands as if they expected to catch the droplets and stop the storm. With the sun almost gone over the horizon, it was growing darker out, proving it difficult to make out the giants’ faces and their surroundings. The tavern’s lights were the brightest thing in this area of town, raucous laughter ringing out in peals from behind the door.

“Speaking of convenience,” Mick grumbled. “S’pose that’s our cue, isn’t it?”

Right.

Iris took the reins of their horses, tying Missy and Nora tight outside the tavern with a quick offering of apples for dinner. Barry took a deep breath, something he seemed to be doing often today, and moved to push the door open, gesturing the others inside. Lisa flashed him a smile as she passed - as did Iris, though hers was more subdued - and Mick at least avoided bumping his shoulder, which he took as a sign of good will. Or gratitude, perhaps? Maybe it was an elven custom.

Or maybe it was just a Mick thing.

That headache was starting to return.

Len, however, merely smirked and waved in front of him when Barry looked to him questioningly. “After you, Your _Highness_ ,” he drawled.

Barry rolled his eyes but when Len showed no signs of budging, he turned to step inside, hearing Len snort behind him. “And here I thought we were past that, _Leonard_.”

His foot caught a step up into the tavern and Len’s hand braced him - _again_ \- an abashedly comforting feeling he knew he probably could get used to. He didn’t dare look back, but he had a feeling Len was still smirking at his clumsiness.

If Len spoke, he didn’t have time to catch his words; the inner room of _The Black Dragon_ , alongside the mixed laughter and shouts and pounding of giant feet, drowned out their voices. A pair walked by with ale in hand, bellowing to one another, and Barry flinched as the stockier of the two walked a little too close to where Iris was edging away from, only for him to jerk back into Len’s drooping hand.

Noise aside, _The Black Dragon_ didn’t seem like a rundown establishment. The space was wide and sprawling further into the back, leaving plenty of room for various tables and a bar where a gruff-looking barkeep manned the more drunken customers. A large staircase in the far left corner stretched up into what Barry imagined was the second floor, though it couldn’t be for paying guests since it appeared to be blocked off. Maybe that was where the owner stayed.

Shit, he hadn’t even thought about where they were going to spend the night. With the storm brewing outside, they’d have to find an inn fast or hope the rain let up by the time their meeting ended.

Lisa waved for them to come closer so they could hear each other over the din. “A lot more crowded than I expected.”

“It _is_ a tavern,” Mick said, looking faintly amused by how Lisa kept swiveling to stare around her. “Prime drinking hour.”

“It’ll only get busier later into the evening,” Len warned. “Which means more feet to be trampled under.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Not everything has to be a rush, Lenny. Besides, it’s not as if the whole town’s out drinking.”

Barry’s stomach clenched at the memory of the exhausted workers. As if sensing his discomfort, Iris stepped closer, her hand shifting to her sword hilt as she lowered her voice for only him to hear. “Did Wells describe whom we should be meeting with?”

“He said the giant went by Raymond,” Barry winced as another rout of booming laughter echoed in the tavern nearby, “and he should be the owner of the establishment. Said he serves as a sort of ambassador for the towns in Giant Country, handles all diplomatic issues. Not much about the giant himself, though, nor what he looks like.”

Iris sighed, giving their surroundings a pointed look, as well as the approximate two dozen giants in their vicinity. “Well, that truly narrows down our options.”

“What about you?” Barry asked Len, who, much like his sister, hadn’t removed his gaze from the giants for more than scarce moments. Though, his expression bore no awe but suspicion instead that slowly crept into his narrow-eyed stare. “Do you see your...relative?”

Len shook his head. “Too crowded to tell, but if there are any smaller folk here, they’re not sitting out in the open.”

“Either that or it’s too early for some customers,” Lisa pointed out.

Mick snorted. “Don’t think she’ll care about the time if she’s been drinking them under the table.”

Iris frowned and opened her mouth, likely to ask the same questions bubbling forth on Barry’s tongue, but before she could the earth shook around them and the group barely had a moment to catch their balance as two enormous brown boots planted themselves not two feet in front of them.

The questions died, scurrying back down Barry’s insides as he looked up and met a pair of large brown eyes, partially obscured under the shadow of his dark hair. He felt the air shift around them, beginning to buzz as if afraid of an attack, and the flower in his pocket hummed in response. His hand fluttered with the urge to clench his fingers around the petals.

The giant’s tunic stretched tight over his upper form as he folded his arms across his chest, his gaze lingering on Barry in a way he didn’t quite like. Barry had to admit, though, he hadn’t expected giants to look so…

Well. Not very greasy-haired and slow-witted, that is. This giant - this man - looked almost attractive with his short hair and set jaw. There weren’t many visible differences between him and a human, height issues aside.

“Prince Bartholomew.” Barry winced, and felt more than saw Iris shift closer to him. Maybe he ought to wear a sack over his head, if recognizing him was truly that easy outside the castle walls. “What a surprise.”

“I, uh, you’ve heard of me?”

The giant’s mouth jerked up at the corners - only for a moment, but it was enough to briefly ease his anxiety. “I’d hope everyone in Central Kingdom has. Doesn’t explain your unexpected visit.”

“Oh… I was looking for someone, actually. The owner of the tavern? Goes by Raymond?  I’d like to speak to him.”

Another twitch. “It’s Ray. And you’re looking at him.”

Of course he was.

Barry glanced at the others, all of whom bore the same wariness he felt, and swallowed a lump. He tried to lean into the supportive nudge Iris gave him, steeling himself as he straightened his spine. “Well, ah, I’m here as...a friend. I heard about the riots as of late,” it took all of his willpower not to cringe when the giant’s gaze darkened, “and I was sent to - I was hoping to help - well, help talk solutions?”

“Solutions.”

“I know you probably want peace as much as I do,” Barry continued, the faint wails from earlier plaguing the forefront of his mind as his tone softened. “I’m not here to instate laws or sign contracts, I just want to help. As a friend to you and your people,” he added quickly.

Ray studied Barry hard enough that if not for years of practice, he would’ve squirmed out of his skin. He saw Mick’s shoulders tense out of the corner of his eye, as if preparing for a fight. Which was a laughable idea, really, given that Mick with all of his strength couldn’t possibly take down a _giant_.

“You come as a friend.” It was a statement, not a question. “Is this on your own account or your regent’s?”

Barry wasn’t nearly as taken aback as Ray perhaps hoped. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to people accusing him or Wells of anything and everything by this point. “I’m here because I heard you had trouble, and I know it’s been… Well, it’s been years. But we are allies and have always been at peace. I hoped to come here and,” he hesitated and spread his hands, “hear out your complaints, I suppose. For lack of a better term.”

Ray raised an eyebrow, but the prolonged scrutiny only lasted a moment more before a wry smile replaced the frown threatening to emerge. He knelt beside them, lighter than Barry had expected, perhaps not wanting to jostle them further, and gestured behind him. “In that case, welcome, Your Highness. You were right to come to _The Black Dragon_ , though I don’t think you’ll be getting anywhere else anytime soon with that storm outside.”

Barry barely stopped himself from sighing in relief; he opted for a smile instead, one that came easily with how bright Ray’s demeanor became. “Yes, we saw as we rode in. I don’t suppose you know anywhere we could spend the night?”

Ray glanced over his shoulder, nodding toward the stairs. “We don’t usually get many visitors from elsewhere, no humans, at least, but I’m sure there won’t be a problem with you and your friends staying upstairs for the night? The nearest inn is across town, much too far for your, ah, smaller feet.”

“That would be wonderful.”

Iris pulled her hand away from her sword subtly as Ray stood once more, his grin widening. “Excellent! I’ll make up a room in a few minutes - just after I finish with the next round, there’ll be more coming in soon. Feel free to find a table, rest your feet. You’re a long way from the castle, after all.”

Barry swore he heard Mick mutter something under his breath, but he couldn’t catch the words. At least Mick bore sense not to start a fight.

Or maybe he was eager to get to drinking.

Lisa, however, seemed to have no such qualms and stepped forward, clearing her throat to catch Ray’s attention. When he glanced down, her simper mellowed into more of a polite smile. “Pardon me, but we’re also looking for a woman. Maybe she passed through?”

Len frowned, and Ray tilted his head thoughtfully. “A human woman?”

“Yes, not much taller than us. She’s an old family friend, blonde, a bit of a drinker?”

Ray snapped his fingers. “Oh! Sara, you mean?”

Len and Lisa straightened - even Mick perked up, despite the feigned indifference on his expression.

Barry wasn’t sure how to quantify the look on Len’s face, somewhere between relieved and resigned.

“You know her?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah. Well, I know _of_ her. We spoke a couple times while she was here, but she hung out near the bar often. Not very talkative. She might be coming in later, been here a few days now.” Ray pointed toward the barkeep, who was currently shaking her head at some of the rowdier customers while refilling their beer. “Or you could ask Kendra. She spoke to her a lot, might know when she’ll be back.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you,” Lisa practically purred. The giant’s cheeks pinkened before he nodded and hurried off to help his barkeep, and Barry had to resist the urge to laugh. Lisa sure knew how to charm people.

Len was less impressed, bumping Lisa’s arm as he passed her, though not in a rough, malicious manner. Barry couldn’t help but frown at how tight his smirk stretched, how immeasurably chilly the gleam in Len’s blue eyes had become.

“Well,” he drawled, “better get to it, then.”

“Get to it?” Barry asked.

Len gestured toward the surrounding tables, all several feet taller than their heads and with wooden chairs that’d be a challenge to climb even without the height, given the intricate vine-like designs on the top and cross rails on the back. Even with most of the usual customers on their way, there were few tables unoccupied, whether by drink or laughing giants themselves.

“Wouldn’t want to delay your chat with _Raymond_ here.” Len drew out the name with a curl to the corners of his lips. “Got a meeting to prepare for, after all.”

Barry’s stomach dropped, and not due to nerves. The realization hadn’t even struck him, but the bluntness of Len’s words and the clear farewell underlying his tone made his insides seize.

They’d arrived at their shared destination. Their travels had come to an end. Together, at least.

Somehow Barry hadn’t expected it to be such a short trip, despite knowing they were only traveling out of convenience.

He was grateful for Iris’s swift and skeptic, “And what about you?” to give him a moment to compose himself.

“Seeing after our dear family friend, of course.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed. “Funny, that. I thought you mentioned she was a distant relative earlier.”

Lisa stepped in as Len’s expression sharpened, sending her brother a glower. “Technically, she’s Lenny’s godmother, but it’s been a long while since we’ve seen her. She’s helped out our family for...quite some time.”

“Your godmother?” Surprise crossed Iris’s face and Barry glanced at Len, who looked so tense Barry was sure he would contract in on himself and combust, as opposed to how amused Mick seemed with the whole conversation.

When Len had brought up his godmother last night, he hadn’t looked nearly as upset. Had he not wanted Iris to know? But then, why would he tell _Barry_ in the first place?

“You just find a table and get ready for your giant ambassador.” Lisa patted her brother’s shoulder, which didn’t aid in relieving any tension in his posture whatsoever, and flashed Barry a grin. “We have a few questions to ask the lovely _Kendra_.”

Before anyone could say a word, or dare protest, Lisa tugged Len after her toward the barkeep, causing Mick to snort and follow suit. It only took half a turn away from Barry and Iris until Lisa’s grin vanished and she hissed something back at Len, who looked equally put out and irritated.

“They’re hiding something,” Iris murmured.

Barry sighed. “Iris.”

“They are! Are you really going to deny it after they ducked out like _that_?”

He turned to face her and grimaced when he met Iris’s glare that clearly spelled out _Try me_. “Look, none of us trust each other right now, of course they’re going to lie about whom they’re meeting. I think Lisa was telling the truth about the godmother, though. I mean, unless that’s a whole different story, but - ”

“Never mind.” Iris held up a hand and Barry watched her gaze slide past his shoulder, still following the three thieves. There was something thoughtful and hesitant flickering behind her eyes, just for an instant before she glanced back at Barry. “Whether or not it’s true, if it _was_ …” She shook her head. “Godmothers and lying aside, I will admit that they have a point. We should prepare for Ray to come back.”

Ah. The nerves came crawling back, like a fungus spreading through his veins.

Iris must have seen some sign of uncertainty in his face because her stern demeanor faded. She nudged Barry’s arm gently. “Come on. Better get something in you before you start shooting sparks again.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Barry mumbled, but he let Iris pull him toward the closest table out of the way of one stumbling, massive pair of feet.

He hoped she didn’t catch the glance behind him, just a quick peek he couldn’t help. He wasn’t sure how he’d begin to explain the way his chest ached staring after the back of Len’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


	13. Keep Losing My Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lightning strikes and Len stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were so many lovely comments last chapter about loving this story, so I just wanted to thank you all for your love and support. I appreciate every one of you, down to the smallest of kudos. <3
> 
> This became my longest chapter yet - and maybe one of my favorites - and I'm very proud of the latter half of this, once I managed to get into the speed of writing what I wanted. I can't promise I'll update soon, what with the Valentine Exchange happening in less than a month, but I'm nowhere near done with this story and your feedback is the best motivation.
> 
> Enjoy.

“I hope you know,” Len ground out for Lisa’s ears alone, though he wouldn’t be terribly shocked if the half-open knapsack meant Cisco was listening in, “that you’re insufferable.” 

“Ass,” Lisa shot back cheerily. She dodged the giant footsteps with grace and ease, not sparing a glance upward, almost as if she sensed them coming. He wondered if that was possible, given her magic.

Of course _he’d_ be stuck with the unusable, obstinate kind of magic.

He shouldn’t be thinking like that, he knew. Lisa’s eagerness to find Sara Lance stemmed not just from helping Len with the curse, not with her fingers itching to grab Cisco from the bag and the unabashed hope glittering in her eyes. Clearly magic wasn’t something easily controlled by _anyone_.

Still, the bitterness on his tongue persisted.

“You’re also a terrible liar,” Len pointed out as they neared the tavern stools, where there were thankfully few giants perched and gulping down beer and ale. They seemed to be migrating to other tables now, making room for those coming in from the rain.

“Who said I was lying to them?”

“I _meant_ that you were terrible enough to tell them the truth.”

Lisa scoffed, coming to a halt before the nearest empty stool and planting her hands on her hips. “Sometimes people are blind enough not to question what’s right in front of their eyes.”

“Especially not when there are suspicious knights already wary about what they’re being told by a group of wanted thieves.”

Lisa shook her head, that same flare of annoyance earlier that morning rising in her eyes. “They’re not going to do anything regardless, Lenny. Have you seen the way Prince Charming over there looks at you? He’d probably fight her himself if she or her father tried to arrest you.”

Len chose to ignore the hum of agreement from Mick behind him. “We can’t give them leverage, Lisa.”

She looked utterly unamused. “I think we are _way_ past not sharing secrets.”

“We’ve known them for over a day - ”

“And you’ve known him for a week or so now, yes?” Len clenched his jaw. “If he was going to turn you in, he would have by now, and it’s clear Iris listens to him and cares about him and vice versa. And if you were so worried about _leverage_ , you would’ve stopped this cat-and-mouse game with him by now.”

“Not _that_ kind of leverage,” he snapped, struggling to keep his voice cool and lowered despite the booming voices threatening to drown them out.

“If the kid’s fae,” Mick chimed in, moving to the stool and eyeing the rungs, “he ain’t gonna care if you have a gift or not. Don’t have to tell him about it, but hiding it’s not gonna do any good.”

That was the problem: Len wasn’t _trying_ to hide it. He’d never had to hide the curse, not really. It was always Lisa’s magic and Lisa herself whom he’d protected - from Lewis, from the village, from bandits, from the laws. Len’s curse wasn’t hideable. Not when a throwaway command could reveal the magic out in the open, or get him arrested.

He didn’t care about hiding the curse or the magic, no. While fae godmothers and their gifts were rare, especially these days, he wouldn’t care if someone happened to stumble upon it.

Besides, he hated to say it, but he did believe Iris and Barry wouldn’t use it against him. They were the epitome of nobility, _of course_ they’d be apologetic and perhaps even understanding. He’d spent enough time with them to rule out the possibility of either becoming a controlling monster like Lewis.

Len thought instead of the gleam in Barry’s eyes when he tried to convince Len he was a good man, the frown when he took in the bruises and begged to help Len because he was just that kind of person. The selfless kind that helped where they could because they could and wanted to, not because it was convenient.

Barry’s plea to help nagged at the back of his mind and Len scowled. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sara, but it’d been a spur of the moment decision, one he secretly hoped wouldn’t seem important to Barry at the time.

And maybe Lisa was right, and he had wanted to trust Barry with the knowledge.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t regretting it, not when Barry wanted to _help_ and the last thing they needed were more people meddling in their lives, not mages or knights or even princes.

Whatever good intentions Barry bore didn’t amount to much when he knew it’d only warrant trouble in the long run. He’d already made a mistake allowing this charade to go on long enough as it was.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Len said. “I’m a bit more concerned, however, about what’ll come of the truth.”

Lisa’s shoulders slumped, but she looked more exasperated than defeated. “Lenny, I’m not worried about about _me_ or Cisco or your curse. They’ll be fine. And I’m sure your handsome prince - ”

“ _Lisa_ ,” he warned.

“What, I’m not allowed to flirt with Cisco in front of you – oh, don’t give me that look! – but as long as I don’t talk about it, it’s perfectly fine for you to flirt with Barry?”

“I’m not - ” He cut himself off when both Lisa _and_ Mick gave him an _Are you shitting me_ look. Len closed his eyes and tried not to huff. “It’s not _intentional_.”

“Sure it’s not,” Mick deadpanned.

“And it’s certainly not mutual.”

“Are you _blind_?”

“Mick,” Lisa chided, though she looked just as incredulous. “Just because Lenny’s smart doesn’t mean he’s - ”

“He’s already _taken_ ,” Len snapped, since neither had _clearly_ picked up on his hinting. It took all his will to school his expression to neutrality because this was _exactly_ why he hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. And not _in the middle of a giant tavern._

Lisa and Mick stared at him with twin blank expressions for a long moment. And then some.

“Never mind,” Lisa said slowly. “He’s definitely blind.”

Why did he even try? “Look, he practically told me himself, not that it _matters_ \- ”

“Wait, are you jealous of _West_?” Mick guffawed loud enough for the giant sitting above them to the left to look down with a growl. “Jeez, Snart.”

“Perhaps we should shelve this enlightening conversation for _later_ ,” Lisa cleared her throat, nodding toward the giants eyeing them, as if they were curious talking gnats. “Though he does have a point because _really_ , Lenny, they're not even - ”

“I _get it_.”

“If he were anything but friends with Iris, he would be doing a worse job at hiding it,” Lisa talked right over him with a firm glare. “Which is impressive, because you called _me_ a terrible liar.”

Len did concede that she had a point, but before he could retort, a much louder woman cleared her throat above them, sounding eerily like one of the elderly women in Amplewick who used to lecture him about running off from Lewis’s side. They all looked up and met the rigid but no less bemused expression of the barkeep - _Kendra_ , yes that was what Raymond had called her - staring down at them over the counter, leaning forward on her freckled elbows.

“Can I help you?” Her voice ran smooth, honeyed almost as much as Lisa tried for when she wanted something, but the bright sheen to her dark eyes came off much more sincere. She had to flick her brown curls out of her eyes with a shake of her head, and part of him got the urge to tease Lisa about taking notes.

His sister clambered onto the stool, her knapsack slapping her side in a way that couldn’t have been anything but disorienting for Cisco, and beamed up at the giant. Mick was already climbing after her, leaving Len to roll his eyes and hoist himself up too.

“I was told you could help us, actually, by the lovely owner of this tavern.” Trust Lisa to flatter a possible lead.

Kendra laughed. “Ray told you that, huh? And who might you be looking for?”

“A blonde woman, about yea high,” Lisa held a hand up to her head. “Came in here a few times. Goes by Sara?”

Kendra’s eyes lit up like Ray’s had minutes before and a broad smile spread across her cheeks, though there was a glint of steel lurking behind her teeth. “Oh, Sara! Yes, she was here the past two nights. How do you know her?”

“She’s my brother’s godmother,” Lisa explained, pointedly ignoring Len’s sigh. “Did she mention if she’d be in tonight as well?”

The steel faded as quickly as it’d come, and Kendra shook her head, smile softening. Len managed not to tense when her eyes flitted toward him, thoughtful and knowing. “Sorry, she said she was only staying the two nights, no more. You can stick around just in case, if you’d like, but she looked…” Kendra glanced at the giant nearest as he slid off his stool to join his companions, leaning closer over the counter to lower her voice. “She looked as if she were on the run from something or someone. If you know what I mean.”

Mick’s brow knitted together. “On the run, huh?”

“Did she mention what from?” Lisa asked, the optimistic glow about her dissolving further by the minute.

Kendra shrugged. “She didn’t talk much about herself, but I figured it had to do with her...well, her _occupation_.”

Bandits, then. Or some sort of bounty hunter looking to make a killing off of fae wings. Len’s nose wrinkled in distaste.

Just what they needed to be dealing with: magic poachers.

Not that he could blame them for going after his godmother after all the hell she’d caused _him_. He shuddered to think of what other horrible “gifts” Sara Lance had been spreading throughout various kingdoms.

Kendra stepped to the side to refill an approaching customer’s ale before sending them a sympathetic look. “Sorry I couldn’t be more help. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve convinced her to stay. Or hide out, I guess.”

“You’ve been great help,” Lisa assured her. “Do you have any idea where she could’ve gone next?”

“Nowhere I know of,” Kendra admitted.

Lisa’s face fell for a split-second before she pasted a smile on her lips so false Len felt painfully guilty. Which made no sense, since this whole situation wasn’t _his_ fault. “Well, thank you anyway.”

“We’d better head out, then. Doesn’t sound like the rain’s too hard yet.” Len started for the edge of the stool, but Lisa grabbed his forearm, bewildered.

“Didn’t you hear Ray? The nearest inn is on the other side of town. Plus, Ray offered to let us spend the night, so there’s no harm in sticking around.”

“You wanted to find Lance, and it’s not too far into the evening yet,” Len whispered, not liking how conspicuously Kendra was watching them. “Consult your bookworm if you want, but we need to get a move on if she’s being tracked. I don’t want to run into any of her friends.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Right, but we can at least check with Cisco while we’re _indoors_ and temporarily away from danger! Do you see any ogres around here, Lenny?”

“Poachers are worse than ogres,” Len hissed. “They’re trained to look for traces of magic, and just because you don’t have wings doesn’t mean - ”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” Lisa spat back. “I’m a big girl. At least admit that you’re too afraid to stay - ”

“ _Lisa_ \- ”

A glass shattered feet away from their stool, and Lisa jerked back, nearly taking Len down with her as she stumbled, but Mick quickly righted them with a firm hand.

Unfortunately, Mick’s grip wasn’t strong enough to hold himself down as he was plucked from the stool by the back of his tunic by a large hand, stumbling off his feet as booming laughter, much closer than before, washed over them. A sense of dread struck Len like an arrow to the chest as the giant’s face came into view, smirk wide as he gazed down at Mick in a way similar to a child playing with their favorite toy.

“Well, well,” he crowed, dark shaggy hair falling in his eyes as he shook his head from the force of his laughter, and Len’s heart sank as the ground shook and more giants thundered over with drinks in hand. “Would you look at that? It’s a little elf, fellas!”

“Lenny,” Lisa hissed, panic evident in her eyes.

“Heard you elves like to entertain,” the giant laughed and a few of his friends joined in as he pulled Mick up to eye level and watched the elf roar obscenities. “Why don’t we have some fun, then?”

Len was never one to panic, not outright, that is. He was rather proud of his ability to keep cool in stress-inducing situations; where obstacles made his father rant and rage and raise his fists, Len took time to assess the variables, assess what he could do to _fix_ and mend the problem at hand until no one was the wiser that there’d been a problem at all.

Seeing Mick thrash and bellow insults from a giant’s hand was more than a little disconcerting. If he had to be honest.

Kendra frowned and started to straighten her spine, cold anger blazing in her eyes, but any demands she made were drowned out by the peals of laughter. Other giants around them were already starting to crowd, some peeking around others at the bar just to see what the commotion was all about.

So much for not attracting attention.

Len vaguely remembered talking to Mick once about magical creatures, when they were both years younger and far more open and reckless, and how Mick found the whole conversation amusing beyond belief. When Len asked if he’d ever met giants before, Mick had laughed. “Wouldn’t dare go near ’em, not alone, that is. May be peaceful but they’re too damn curious for their own good!”

 _How ironic_ , Len reflected, but there was nothing humorous about the memory now.

Lisa yelped as the stool wobbled from an oversized elbow bumping into it without care. Len managed to right them, even as he almost toppled himself over the edge, steadying them by going down to a knee. Kendra sent them a worried look and he shook his head, gesturing to show they were fine.

Mick, on the other hand, was going red-faced with anger. He struggled, though why it was logical to fight when he was at least thirty feet off the ground was beyond Len, and the giant dangling Mick above the floor bellowed a near-deafening laugh as his drinking pals looked on in delight. Len squeezed Lisa’s arm in warning when she made to move forward and grab their attention. Using magic on giants wasn’t going to make any friends, and certainly not when they were drunk enough to make bad decisions _without_ magic influencing them.

“Look at how small he is,” the giant snickered. “All elves this tiny?”

“You _enormous_ \- ”

“Think he’s taller,” said one of the giant’s friends, red-haired with a coarse beard, poking at Mick’s stomach with a keen eye. Len gritted his teeth as Mick snarled something viciously crude. “Than most of them, I mean. Looks larger.”

“You don’t know the difference between ale and whiskey,” the giant scoffed, shaking Mick a little as if that’d get him to shut up. “He’s the tiniest elf I’ve seen.”

“You seen many elves?” 

The giant holding Mick narrowed his eyes, and the huff he let out released an unwelcome gust of ale-tinged breath over Len and Lisa, the latter of which wrinkled her nose and looked rather green. “Not _lately_ , but - ”

“ _Gentlemen_ ,” Lisa called out, her teeth bared in a cruel grin. The giants glanced down at them in surprise, and Len wondered if they’d even noticed he and Lisa were there until now. “As thrilling as this is, would you mind putting down our friend Mick there? Hands to ourselves and all that. I think he’s getting a little, ah, seasick.”

“ _Seasick_?” Mick squawked, but Len shook his head in warning and thankfully the ginger-haired giant, whose eyes widened almost comically at the sight of Lisa’s sternness, looked ashamed and pulled the elf from his companion’s grasp while the other was just as dazed by Lisa’s appearance.

“Apologies, miss,” he said sheepishly, dropping Mick on his feet on the counter by Kendra’s arm. The giantess, for her part, looked endlessly amused as Mick scampered farther away from the giants’ hands, retreating shamelessly closer to the inside of her forearm. But she _did_ glare at those still poking their heads around to get a better look at Mick, which put her in Len’s good books.

“Grubby paws,” Mick muttered.

“Thank you.” Lisa’s grin turned less into a sneer and more into a genuine smile, though he doubted she felt anything other than relief. “He feels much better.”

“Touch me again, and those flabby hands of yours - ”

“ _Mick_ ,” Len warned.

The giant who had plucked Mick from the stool sniffed, nostrils flaring, but his much kinder friend elbowed him, features screwed up into a stern frown. “Was just having a little fun,” he grumbled.

Kendra shooed the drunken giants away with a sound suspiciously akin to a snort, but she looked relieved as anyone to see them go - which gave an opening for Ray to walk over and take their places, Barry and Iris clinging to his palm as he set them down beside Mick. Ray then extended his palm to Len and Lisa, the latter of whom gave him a radiant smile that caused him to blush. Len reluctantly climbed onto the giant’s hand, if only to stand on a more stable surface, given how much their poor stool loved to get bumped around.

“Are you alright?” Len heard Barry ask Mick as Lisa hopped on after him, nodding at Ray. “You look a little dizzy.”

“’M fine. Tell me when the world stops spinning,” Mick said flatly.

Barry looked ready to start checking Mick for a fever - like a doting mother hen, Len thought wryly, though while Barry’s hands twitched toward Mick, he seemed to know better than to outright grab the elf if he didn’t want to lose his hands - as Ray set Len and Lisa down next to them.

Iris, to his surprise, appeared equally concerned, glancing toward the retreating giants as they continued to sneak looks back toward the oh-so-fascinating humans and their elven friend. At least she hadn’t gone for the sword. Len wasn’t sure they would’ve been able to salvage that bridge if she burned it by outright threatening the giants.

“I’m so sorry,” Ray rambled, a perfect picture of guilt as he wrung his hands and shook his head. “We don’t get many visitors, as I said, but that’s no excuse for _manhandling_ guests! I’ll have a talk with them, don’t worry. I’d like to think we have better manners than _that_.”

“Stop griping and groaning,” Len said, causing the giant to stare at him. “What’s done is done, it’s fine. Mick’s got a tough head, he’s not going to keel over.” Mick nodded as if this were enough affirmation needed. “See? Just get them to keep their hands to themselves and we’ll be peachy.”

While taken aback by Len’s tone, Ray still glanced back at the retreating patrons. “I swear they’re not usually like this.” 

“Don’t worry.” Barry flashed a polite smile at Ray, which eased some of the outright worry on Ray’s features, smoothing away worry lines. “I appreciate the concern, but Mick seems like he’ll be fine.”

“Can also speak for himself,” Mick added. Whatever motion sickness remained was wearing off little by little, and Mick didn’t look quite as ill with his budding smirk.

Ray hesitated and Kendra sighed. “Just go give them their lecture. It’s about to get a lot more crowded in a few minutes anyway.”

It took a bit more hand-wringing and half-hearted protests from the giant but Kendra’s urging seemed to do the trick, inciting Ray to lumber off after the others and cement a false smile of geniality on his face. Mick immediately turned to Kendra to ask for the strongest mead she had and Len rolled his eyes as Lisa asked for one as well. He made a note to himself to cut her off at two, if that; testing his sister’s alcohol tolerance was not the way he wanted to spend his evening.

And speaking of which…

“Hope we didn’t cause more trouble for your evening,” Len said to Barry, who tore his gaze away from where he was watching Iris shake her head (and unsuccessfully hide a smile) at how quick Mick downed his drink.

“Huh?”

Len gestured toward Ray. “I’m afraid we scared off your new friend.”

Barry’s eyes lit up and he snorted. He didn’t seem to notice his own shoulders tensing, taut like bowstrings. “Oh! Uh, no, don’t worry about that. We didn’t get to talk much before we heard the...commotion.”

“All good things?”

“Ah…” A muscle jumped in the prince’s jaw. “Not quite, no.”

It hadn’t been his intention to stress Barry out, and Len hesitantly nudged his arm, the way he’d seen Iris do so in silent inquiry. The touch at least made Barry look to him, scattered uncertainty flitting across his face before he bit his lip and cast a glance at the others.

(And if Len saw Lisa catch sight of them and smile before calling Iris over to insist on getting her a drink too, he let it slide, because while he didn’t feel right in trying to hide Barry’s stress from someone so close to him, it was clear he needed a break as much as she.)

Whether Barry understood what he was attempting or not, he did exhale deep, allowing the exhaustion to show as he folded his arms over his chest, not quite looking Len in the eye. “He mentioned that the reason there are so many workers in the fields is because they’ve lost their farms. Most of the land has been reclaimed by renegade bandits or some of the men we saw. Some are barely holding onto the jobs they have, including Ray and Kendra.” Barry’s brow furrowed, as if he still had a hard time believing it himself. “It just… It doesn’t make sense! How could they lose _everything_ to these - these thieves!”

“Not everyone’s got a heart of gold,” Len said quietly. He would’ve found it ironic, Barry’s clear discomfort for those oppressing the giants when he was so adamant on defending  _Len_ , had his own stomach not been flipping at the memory of what they’d seen earlier. “If people find an angle to work, they use it. Regardless of the cost to those around them.”

“I had no idea things were so bad. When Wells mentioned riots, I thought, well,” he paused to grimace. “I don’t know what I thought. Not about the whole of Giant Country being _enslaved_ , that’s for sure. The fact that someone had the idea to go about treating people like cattle when they have families to take care of, their livelihoods...”

Barry’s hands were trembling on his arms, knuckles stark white in a grip that was probably painful, and Len realized this wasn’t nerves or confusion but _anger_ fighting tooth and nail to make itself known in Barry’s eyes. Just sheer anger at the injustice he’d gotten a glimpse of, the terrible things he could only imagine as they were laid out before him on a silver platter. The passion that sprung forth while battling ogres or arguing about his regent was petty, mere child’s play, compared to the fire being stoked in his veins.

All Len wanted was to let the flames simmer - not extinguish them, not when his anger was justified and god knew Barry likely needed to let loose.

And while he wondered what it would take, how far the beast would need to be poked before he snapped, and despite how Len couldn’t help but be held captive by the near-glow of Barry’s eyes, something he couldn’t put his finger on pressing through the thick atmosphere of the tavern like a snake’s irascible hissing…

The shaking hands drew him back to reality, to the very real tightly-wound anguish overwhelming Barry. _Ivory tower_ , he reminded himself.

Thief or Wells, whoever was responsible was causing Barry tangible pain.

There was that snarl deep within Len again, the impulse to pull Barry aside, or better yet run before…

Before what? What was there to run from?

Something nagged at the back of his mind, unbidden and insistent, a light hand tapping at his shoulder like an impudent child, but he shoved it aside and settled for flexing his fingers on Barry’s shoulder. How long had his hand been sitting there?

“Like I said, people aren’t always good Samaritans.” He tugged Barry around to face him, taking the full brunt of the volatile emotions brimming to the surface. “Not everyone’s out here living happily ever after.”

Barry clenched his jaw. “Obviously.”

“Doesn’t mean they _can’t_.”

Some of the anger dissipated, bewilderment taking its time to poke holes through as if it were tearing parchment. “I - what?”

Len sighed. “Barry, you’re going to be _king_ ,” he said, trying to gentle his voice so he didn’t sound patronizing. “Whether these bandits and hired men are yours or not - ”

“They’re _not_ \- ”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice. You’re allied with the giants, yes? Then you can do something about the oppression.”

Barry looked at him now as if he had sprouted two more heads and a dragon’s tail. “Well, yes.”

“Yes?”

“I was going to talk to Ray about the situation more, see if I could figure out who was behind this. Not the riots, since clearly we were misinformed about their cause, but the over-working and who owns these farms now. And talk to the regent when we ride back about the miscommunication, of course, since he has a right to know how they’ve been suffering. But I was going to,” and Barry paused, searching Len’s face for something he couldn’t discern, “well, I was planning on buying back all the farms, even if Iris and I have to drive the damn bandits out ourselves.”

Len’s chest lightened and he felt a little wrong-footed, dropping his hand. “You were?”

A hint of familiar mirth shined through. “Someone _did_ mention I wouldn’t be ‘half-bad’ at negotiation the other day.”

Cheeky shit. Still, he smiled and it almost felt as warm as Barry’s usual blinding grin, unable to keep himself from playing with this tug-of-war they had going. Especially if it meant distracting Barry from his troubles for a short moment.

“I did say that, didn’t I.” Following that tug, he stepped further into Barry’s space and Barry didn’t retreat, letting his arms start to droop as if welcoming Len forward. Lisa’s chiding from earlier swam to the forefront of his mind, her _He would be doing a worse job at hiding it_ cooing like a siren in his ear.

But damn if that tug didn’t grow and ignite in his chest the longer he stared, watching Barry watch him with rapt attention as if he needed only wait for Len to move, to speak, first. As if _Len_ were the prince here, the one in control of his options.

Control.

Sara Lance. Cisco’s predicament.

The curse.

Len looked away, and he spotted Lisa laughing, halfway through her drink while Kendra and Mick teased each other over alcohol tolerance (“It has nothing to do with the size, I’m telling ya!”). Even Iris pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her own chuckle, exasperated as it was.

What was he doing? The curling ball of warmth in his chest flickered out and he hated how he missed it.

“Fun as this is,” he said, forcing himself to meet Barry’s eyes again, reluctant as he was to tear the others away from their merry reprieve, “may have to get going.”

Barry’s face fell. “What? Why? Didn’t Kendra help you with your godmother - Sara, right?”

“She did.” Len eyed the tavern entrance and the influx of giants pouring in, shaking the earth as they walked, expressions brightening more so than they’d been out in the fields despite the fact that they were soaked to the bone. “She’s a bit...flighty.”

“She’s not here.” Somehow Barry sounded more disappointed than his sister had been.

Len shook his head. “No, but she can’t have gone far. Not in this weather.”

“Wait, you’re really leaving?” Barry caught him by the wrist as he made to head toward Lisa, hopefully to drag her off so they could have a little chat with Cisco. “You can’t go out there now, not without food and rest.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“It’s _pouring_ , Len.” 

“Storms pass. We can wait out the storm a little longer if we have to, but we really ought to get going. Would hate to lose the trail when we’re so close, after all.” Len tried for a teasing tone, hoping to ease the worry in Barry’s eyes.

Barry still didn’t let go. “Again, in the _storm_?”

“That is what I said, yes.” Len raised an eyebrow. “You do realize we’re not here for this quest of yours too?”

“I know!” Yet Barry’s cheeks flushed and he shifted his weight even as Len eyed the hand holding him pointedly. “I - Ray’s already offered us upstairs for tonight. And wandering out in the storm, one that a _giant_ told you was too strong to head out in, can probably wait, you know. I’m sure Sara’s not that far, and by tomorrow you’ll be rested enough to chase down your godmother.”

Len pulled out of his grip, gentler than he’d intended and began to pass Barry, heading for his sister. “I appreciate the concern, but really - ”

“Len, just - _stay_.”

His limbs betrayed him, keeping his feet rooted to the counter and he tried not to snarl as the magic wound itself twice over around his bones as if wrapping a present.

 _Barry doesn't know better_ , he told himself, hearing the man huff out a sigh behind him. He could hardly be faulted for a harmless command.

“Please,” came the trepidatious addition, one that eased the weight of the command a smidge. But only that.

He was grateful for not being able to turn regardless; he didn’t quite want Barry to see the sardonic mockery of a smile he’d give as he said, “Alright, I suppose we’ll stay.”

His irritation must have shone through regardless because there came another huff. This time Barry sounded far more aggrieved, coming closer. “Wha - _no_! Not like that. Don’t do that for me just because - I didn’t mean it like...” His voice trailed off and Len didn’t need to hear the rest because he knew what would’ve come.

_I didn’t mean it like an order._

“You don’t have to stay because I said so,” and while Len’s limbs were freed, he almost couldn’t bring himself to turn and face the unexpected bitterness in Barry’s voice, because he hadn’t thought of how the situation would appear to _Barry_ as a _prince_ and -

Mick met his eyes and mouthed _Good?_ He gave a slight nod, hoping that’d be enough to satisfy Mick, and turned, just his head so he could catch the way Barry was staring at his feet with an utterly wretched look. If he noticed Len had turned, he didn’t flinch or give any sign he had.

“I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Len’s breath caught in his throat and he remembered a little girl whispering _“I won’t make you do things like he does, Lenny”_ from so very long ago.

And Barry’s shoulders hunched, not as if he were caving in on himself but steeling his defenses for an oncoming blow, and he looked up, hopeful and remorseful all at the same time as his lips twisted into a thin smile.

“But… I wish you would stay.”

Len’s heart hammered in his chest, tight and erratic, like his insides were too small a cage to hold it steady. He heard Lisa laugh once more, quieter as if she was trying to restrain herself, and he almost felt like laughing too, a strange, hysteric noise that seized his throat.

He held Barry’s gaze, fraught as his willpower was against the moroseness of his smile in a way that had nothing to do with the magic bound to his blood.

They needed to leave. He knew that, Lisa knew it, Mick knew it. Barry likely knew it, if he was reading the glint in his eyes correctly. Sure, they could wait out the weather, or attempt to get Lisa to make them a shield against the rain (or however magic worked for someone “attuned to nature”, as Cisco put it), but wasting time at the tavern was helping no one.

Besides, Barry and Iris would be better off traveling on their own. Away from curses and magic and thieves to distract them. 

Yet Len couldn’t find the words for denial anywhere, couldn’t refuse when his chest was so _tight_ and for the first time in years, since maybe Lisa’s birth, he _wanted_ \- untethered and fierce and suffocating as the feeling was.

Not for Lisa, not for escape (though every bone in his body, the rational ones in any case, screamed at him to run and never look back), not even for Mick, but for himself, selfish bastard he was, to anchor his feet to the ground and forget who he was for one night.

His hands itched - maybe to shove Barry away, maybe to yank him close by the neck of his tunic, maybe to snarl and sneer in his face and demand to know how, _how_ he was doing this, he didn’t _know_. It took herculean effort not to let his own hands shake like Barry’s had minutes before, years of practicing tells in mirrors and in front of his sister, teaching her to guard her heart as he did his.

Not well enough, apparently. Not when she kept eyeing her knapsack with that wistful stare she thought was subtle.

Fuck it all.

Barry’s smile started to fade and he glanced toward the door, swallowing visibly, and Len shut his eyes.

“Well, if you - ”

“I suppose the storm won’t be going anywhere for a long while,” Len drawled, hoping to sound unaffected as the prince swiveled back around, still as a statue. He wanted to bite his own tongue - the damn _traitor_. Clearing his throat, Len drew back behind his defenses, watched the others drink and loosen up, watched Lisa wring a small grin out of Iris for the first time. “Could use a real bed to sleep in for the night.”

And there was that blinding smile he’d grown so used to, emboldened by hope, and Len wondered if it would be a terrible plan after all to pitch himself off the bar counter as Lisa waved them over, that familiar tease glittering in her eyes like diamonds.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice that sounded eerily like Mick’s burst into laughter and muttered, “Fine mess this is, huh?”)

 

***

 

Ray’s return brought a less rigid and welcome change, though Barry was sure it had little to do with his rowdy fellow giants, given how quick his shoulders slumped in relief when he leaned against the counter. Still, even without Mick and Lisa’s insistence on drinking a while and having a good time (“because when else will we get the chance?”), Barry found himself relaxing more around both Kendra and Ray than he anticipated. Maybe it was Ray’s cheerful demeanor or the soft-spoken words accompanied by Kendra’s steadfast gaze as she shooed the drunker giants away from their place on the counter, but it was easy to forget his worries about giantfolk that’d consumed his thoughts for most of their journey.

Then again, it shouldn’t have been too surprising that giants weren’t anything like how they’d been depicted in stories and even reports from scouts around the kingdom. He _was_ traveling with an elf - hell, _Barry_ was technically a creature himself.

Nevertheless, with his worries abated for the time being, he tried not to fuss over the future, and sat beside Iris on the countertop while Lisa tried to weasel a story about Mick’s travels out of the elf. He (unsuccessfully) resisted the urge to blush, but he felt his cheeks warm as Len perched beside them. No doubt Iris noticed, if her quiet snort was indication enough, but she didn’t say a word as she sipped at her drink. Iris’s brow creased when Barry explained that their companions would be staying a bit longer, she didn’t appear too upset by the notion (though, Barry suspected that might’ve also been influenced by the drinking, even if she’d only had a little less than half of her beer).

Barry couldn’t bring himself to feel too ashamed of his enthusiasm, even as he called Ray over and brought up their interrupted conversation about the riots. He knew he was perhaps acting a little _blatant_ about his intentions, and if the look on Lisa’s face got any smugger whenever she glanced at him and her brother, he was sure it’d imprint itself on her cheeks permanently.

But there was a thrill coiling around his insides that had nothing to do with giants and ogres and idle diplomacy, and he didn’t want to cut it off anytime soon. Len’s shoulder brushed his a couple times as he took one of the small drinks Kendra gave to the group in thimble-sized cups, and Barry hoped he didn’t notice the heat jumping off his skin, the air around him struggling to react to the bubble of magic in his veins.

Ray, however, shared none of his ardor and would hear nothing about the bleak conversation for now. He assured him that they’d talk tomorrow when everyone had rested, his grin twitching when Barry made to protest. “Eyes and ears all around,” was the only explanation he gave, which, well, Barry understood the need for paranoia.

Still, he didn’t hold it against Ray, and certainly not when the giant offered to show them where they could stay the night since the storm wouldn’t be letting up until far later in the evening. He wasn’t surprised when Lisa and Mick declined to stay behind, but the hesitancy in Iris’s face gave him enough pause to send her a questioning look before she stated she’d stay with the pair.

“Are you sure?” Barry asked, low for her ears alone.

Iris rolled her eyes, though the flick of her gaze toward Lisa and the elf who was currently entertaining Lisa with a story about how he and Len had met - one that appeared to be amusing everyone _but_ Len - concerned Barry. “It’s fine. Besides, Ray and Kendra seem like good people.” He chose to ignore the unspoken _unlike others_ underlying her words.

But, to each their own. If Iris wanted to keep an eye on Mick and Lisa that badly, he wasn’t going to stop her.

He also wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t holding out hope that she’d come around to admitting the thieves weren’t quite as awful as she made them out to be. Especially if she thought drinking with them was the best option.

The room on the second floor of the tavern that Ray carried Barry and Len to was spacious, likely for enormous feet to roam about and not trip over or collide with the shelves and crates stored near the far end. The floorboards creaked with every step Ray took; Barry wondered if the others could hear the noise down below, or if dust rained from the ceiling. His nose wrinkled as he pictured it sprinkling down into their beer.

“I hope this isn’t too cramped.” Ray set them down on the floor and grimaced before moving over a few crates to make room. Not that they didn’t already have a wide space to walk around, given their short stature compared to the literal giant in the room. “I’ll bring up some blankets, if you’d like. Sorry, it’s not anything comfortable. Obviously, we don’t have people stay over often. Or at all.”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Barry assured him, though the thought of lying on a wooden floor wasn’t ideal. “Just some blankets and pillows would be nice.” 

“I’ll get right on that.” Ray started for the stairs only to whip right back around with a sheepish look, smacking his forehead. “Oh! Do you want me to bring…?”

“We’ll wait here,” Len said flatly. “No use in toting us everywhere like dolls.”

Ray hesitated but Barry sent him an encouraging smile and he relaxed before promising to return. The moment he disappeared downstairs, Len snorted quietly.

“You could be nicer to him,” Barry scolded.

“Who said I wasn’t?”

“You’re doing that - that _thing_.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Len’s growing smirk. “You know. With your mouth.”

“How very specific, thank you.”

Barry rolled his eyes and the floor trembled under their feet from guffaws below. “Could you please be nicer to him? It’s only for one night, and we’re his guests. Whatever it is about Ray you don’t like - ”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Len cut him off. “It’s just never prudent to trust everyone you meet.”

Barry hoped that wasn’t a jab at him, but it was difficult to tell when Len kept his true feelings under lock and key. He put his hands on his hips, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder from the wound left by the ogres. “Well, Ray doesn’t seem like a bad person to me.”

“No one who apologizes that much is sincere. He’s either naïve or playing at something. After all, didn’t he look ready to throw us out within the first minute of our arrival?”

“He has a right to be wary.” Barry’s stomach churned but he forced the feeling down. “It’s not as if humans have been pleasant to giants lately.”

The memory must’ve struck Len too because his smirk vanished and he tilted his head as a small frown took its place. “All the more reason to be on our guard.”

“You really think the whole world is out to get you, don’t you?”

Len’s frown tightened. “Comes with the job.”

Before Barry could respond, footsteps hurried up the stairs and Ray’s head popped into view. “Sorry! I forgot to ask: you mentioned you rode into town?”

Barry glanced at Len, who was back to looking around the room. “Oh, uh, yes?”

“Would you like me to get someone to bring your horses to a nearby stable? The storm’s getting worse out there, and I’d hate for them to be blown away.”

A flicker of guilt swept through him at the thought of Missy and Nora. He hadn’t even thought about them, poor girls. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Ray came higher up on the stairs to lay out a couple of woolen blankets, which seemed acres long compared to a human-sized quilt, and a few pillows. “I’m sure you can sort out who’ll be sleeping where, unless you want me to get your friends, Your Highness?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Barry said, thinking of Iris’s determination to keep an eye on Lisa and Mick. “There’s plenty of space. And please, call me Barry.”

Ray’s smile brightened. “As long as you call me Ray. I’ll go get the horses. If you need anything just call down. Or ask for Kendra.”

Barry held out a hand to stop him as he started to leave, more guilt flooding him the longer he considered Ray’s kindness, saw the smile falter as he waited. “I… Thank you for everything.”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s no need - ”

“I want you to know,” Barry swallowed and forced himself to straighten his spine, a voice eerily like Wells’s murmuring for _steadfastness, strength, courage_ , “I want you to know that I’m going to do everything in my power to help you with those enslaving your people. First thing after my coronation, or before, if there’s time, I’ll help you buy your farms back. Even if I have to do it with my own gold.”

He could feel Len’s gaze swivel to him, but a different warmth spread through his bones as Ray’s expression softened with relief and happiness. “That’s not necessary, but thank you. I’ll hold you to that.”

Barry thanked him again and pretended to ignore Len turning not-so-subtly to watch Ray go, undisguised scrutiny peeking through once the giant’s back was turned.

He wasn’t prepared for Len to turn to him moments after Ray left (again) and pull him closer with a loose grip on his forearms. Barry’s heart kicked into gear embarrassingly fast, but the nerves subsided when Len prodded his wound and he tried to jerk out of his hands.

“Hey, what - ”

“You haven’t changed the bandages.” Len’s eyes narrowed as he made to protest, a glare that shut down that plan real quick. “And clearly you’re still hurting.”

“Oh. Wha - You could’ve just _asked_ me! What’s with the prod - ow!” He hissed as Len’s fingers pressed a little harder before easing away.

“Seeing as how you haven’t done anything about it all day, I doubt you would’ve said anything otherwise.”

“You don’t know that,” Barry grumbled under his breath, though he was relieved when Len released him to fold his arms over his chest. “It’s not that bad, really. It only hurts when you touch it.”

“Or if you shift it the wrong way.” Len nodded to himself, as if agreeing with his own observation. “Good thing we still have the bandages. Take off your shirt.”

This was some form of karma for asking Len to stay. It had to be.

Barry was grateful Iris was still downstairs - and Lisa, actually, he wasn’t too fond of that smug look she got whenever he and Len spoke to one another - and unable to see how hot his cheeks were. He didn’t look at Len as he obeyed, shivering in the chilly room as he let Len maneuver him to sit against one of the enormous pillows Ray had left behind.

A wave of relief hit him when Len unbound the bandages, even if it did sting, allowing for the wound to air out before he tied on the new ones. Fuck, he hadn’t realized how tight those were. Most of the blood was gone by now, washed away in the stream from yesterday, so there was little need to wipe away any remnants.

It also helped that the thief’s deft fingers were light around the wound this time, soothing rather than adding pressure. He let out a sigh, barely audible to his own ears, and heard Len chuckle.

After that Barry kept his eyes pinned to the far wall, determinedly away from Len. And so he didn’t have to see the amusement he _knew_ was radiating off of the man.

“Guess it’s a good thing I stayed.” Len must’ve picked up the new bandages because the rub against his skin no longer came from his fingertips. Barry hated how disappointed he felt. “Though, I’m sure Iris would’ve sat you down herself sooner or later.”

“Probably,” Barry agreed. “Even before we were officially friends, she used to drag me to the kitchens when she found out I was too busy to eat. Tried to teach me to fight before Joe took it upon himself to try.”

“Of course she did.”

“Yeah, she’s always been a great friend. But I think she deserved a break. Not that you’re replacing her or anything - ”

“Believe me, I doubt anyone could replace her.”

It was Barry’s turn to laugh, even if the curious lilt to Len’s voice made him wonder if he’d missed something. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about her this whole trip.”

“I can be nice.”

“Sure.” Barry’s willpower broke and he looked toward Len. He was irrationally pleased to find something akin to a smile tugging at the man’s mouth. “You know… I meant what I said.”

“About what? Playing nice with our dear new giant friends?”

“About helping you find Sara.” Len’s expression closed off but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize, shifting so he could face Len as the bandage tightened around his shoulder in warning. “It’s clear this is important to you, even if you don’t like her for whatever reason.”

“How many times are we going to go through this white knight routine, Barry?”

“That’s not what this is,” he protested. “What if I told you I might know a way to find her?”

“She’s a bit of a wanderer. Don’t think you’d be able to track someone like that.”

“You _could_ if you knew of a place with magic records.”

That held Len’s attention. His blue eyes met Barry’s, still suspicious, but he thought he saw a glimmer of interest, no matter how faint. “Magic records.”

“Yes. We have a library in the castle, and a hall of records for all our citizens. If she’s from Central Kingdom, we ought to have a record on Sara.”

The glimmer snuffed itself out and Len sighed, leaning closer to pull the bandage around his shoulder. “She won’t be in there.”

“And if not,” Barry said, unable to stifle his smile, “then I _did_ happen to stumble across a few scrolls of names a couple years back from _outside_ of Central Kingdom, including giants and fae and the like. They hold the usual information: where they’re supposed to be located, sparse details about their jobs. I don’t think Wells or Joe know we still have them.”

Len’s fingers stilled. “And how did you ‘stumble’ across these?”

“I was a curious kid.”

“You found these a few years ago.”

“Well, what else was I going to read while cooped up in a castle?”

“Oh, yes, poor you,” Len deadpanned, but something he dared pinpoint as hope seemed to shine through and Barry couldn’t bring himself to be upset by the sarcastic jab. “But you do realize your little plan has a few flaws, don’t you?”

“Like what?”

“Like the wanted thieves you want to sneak into the castle to find said records. Or the fact that my godmother could be long gone by the time we find wherever she lives now?”

“I’m just saying it’s worth a try! Unless you or Lisa or Mick are expert trackers, I doubt you’re going to be able to find her within the next few days, especially with all this rain.”

Len looked like he wanted to huff indignantly, the bandage tugging again, though not nearly as tight as before. “We can manage just fine.”

“You don’t have to brush people off like that. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, something tells me you just want to follow us,” Len teased, but he didn’t miss the wary undertone. Jeez, did Len _still_ think he was going to arrest him? After everything?

Barry placed a hand over Len’s on his shoulder and ignored the way Len froze. Thankfully the thief seemed more disbelieving than alarmed, as if he couldn’t comprehend what the hell was causing Barry to move.

“Just...can you promise me you’ll at least think about the offer? You came all the way here and you’re obviously upset you didn’t find her.” Barry leaned back against the side of the pillow and almost sank into the soft material. “If it makes you feel any better, you can go look for her first and meet up with me and Iris later in Central Kingdom.”

“I’m sure she’d love that.”

“Len,” Barry pleaded. “Please.”

Len glanced between the hand and Barry’s face, still rigid with the remaining bandages in hand. Barry tried not to hold his breath, but he was sure Len could feel his anxiety, if not through his pulse then via the nerves gnawing at his insides.

After a few moments, Len pulled out from under his grasp and finished tying off the bandage. A harsh whiplash of deja vu seized him alongside longing. “I’ll bring it up to Lisa and Mick for consideration. But only that.”

“Thank you.”

“Feels like it ought to be the other way around,” Len said, but his expression wasn’t quite as cold as it had been.

Barry reached for his tunic as Len backed away, the space between them growing once more, and he was more than happy to put on the tunic as another layer against the chill. Len looked aside respectfully, and somehow _that_ made his face warm. He ducked his head, clearing his throat. “You don’t need to thank me, really.”

“You’ve been overflowing with generosity tonight, seems only fitting.”

Barry couldn’t help but tense, just a little. “I told you I was going to buy them back. I’m not going to let the giants work themselves to death when we could be doing something about it.”

“Well, not everyone keeps to their word.” Barry started to frown but a hand tilted his chin up and he found there was no judgment, no sneer on Len’s face. “Not everyone takes action against wrongs either.”

His throat went dry and he let out a nervous laugh. “That’s… That’s not what happened.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Iris is more of the one who takes action,” and he felt Len’s hand still again though he wasn’t sure why, “the one who rights wrong without thinking twice about it. Even if it means punching someone in the face on the rare occasion.” Thinking back to the incident with Tony Woodward, his lips twitched.

“So that’s not what your little offer to Raymond was? Or to me?” Len’s brow creased. “For someone claiming you want to help others, you’re too critical of yourself. First the ogres and now the giants.”

“Isn’t being critical of others what you do best?” Barry shot back, hackles rising.

“Not when it’s against yourself for unnecessary reasons.”

Barry pulled out of Len’s grasp and felt rather than saw Len’s hand fall, grazing his knee as Barry looked away. “It’s not - look, that’s not taking action. It’s just a promise, and if I can talk to Wells - ”

“Or you can do it yourself.”

“I’m going to _try_ but I need to know more about the riots, who’s behind them, how they started. He’s the best one to get information from. He hears out all of the scouts.”

“You do realize that’s going to be _you_ in a week or so,” Len reminded him, and Barry immediately wanted to snap back at the sharp tone, wanted to push himself to his feet and storm off like a child because he _knew that_. Len was the last person he needed to hear it from, the never-ending mantra of _this will be you_ encircling his mind, a snare he couldn’t tear himself free from. “Hearing out complaints, making laws, knowing about your own people. A promise is good, but making good on it the way you obviously want to, taking action… That’s a start.”

“Well, that’s not me.” Len rolled his eyes, genuine irritation finally breaking through, and Barry felt bile, something horribly bitter, rise from deep in his chest and he didn’t want Len to dare protest. “I told you, I’m not someone who - who just takes action when the time comes. That’s not me.”

“ _Of course_ , because clearly - ”

“It’s _not_.”

“I’d say you’re being humble, but this is just ridiculous.”

“That’s - ” Barry ran a hand through his hair and seized a handful like a foolish life-line, fighting back a growl. “Look, I’m more of a runner than anything else, trust me.”

Len scoffed. “And what exactly have you run from so far? Thieves? Ogres? Giants?”

“I ran the night my parents were murdered.”

There was a long beat of silence. He almost wasn’t sure Len had heard him, or would respond. But then he felt Len shift, felt him move so they were side-by-side instead. A move he would nearly call considerate, since it meant he didn’t have to stare at the man directly.

Something about that made Barry want to laugh again. Though with the way his hands were shaking, it’d likely be more of a sob.

“How?” Not a demand, not a sneer, just a question.

“What’d they tell you?” Barry asked. “Just a ‘they will be remembered’ and how great they were before… I don’t know, promising to find the killer?”

“Something like that.” Gone was the anger, leaving only a soft tone he both appreciated and loathed. Barry brought his knees up to his chest with a huff. He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t someone to be _pitied_. “Didn’t say much about it other than that we ought to give our respects.”

“Right.” Barry’s hand released and clenched in his hair a few times. He couldn’t bring himself to let go properly, to breathe slow like he ought to, every breathing technique Iris and Joe and Wells had tried to teach him out the window.

Len’s shoulder nudged his, though it didn’t appear to be on purpose when he cast a look back, and something in his eyes caused the winding hysteria to snap as he took a shaky breath.

“It was… I got out of bed that night because of a nightmare. A nightmare, of all things. I don’t - I don’t remember what it was about. Probably a monster or something. I was sneaking out to get a snack, trying to calm down, maybe in the kitchens because hey, I was a growing boy.” Amusement danced on Len’s lips, even if it was more sober than sincere, and that spurred him on. “But, I… I heard a noise. Coming from my parents’ room. And, being the curious child I was, I went to see what was wrong because it didn’t sound good.

“Then I opened the door and saw my mother on her knees, trying to fend off - I don’t even know who he was - _what_ he was. Some being of gold, his skin wreathed in lightning. It was like he wasn’t even _human_ , and maybe he wasn’t - I don’t know, I… All I remember is the lightning and the yellow and that he was fighting her. He was fighting my mother with magic and he looked like he was winning. I didn’t realize at the time but…” Barry shut his eyes, his mother’s pale face, sweat plastered to her skin blazing behind his eyelids. “He looked like he was sucking the life out of her, her _magic_. She was shaking. I’ve never - I’d never seen her so frail, helpless.”

Someone shouted something downstairs, initiating a round of laughter, and it felt mocking in a way he knew was absurd. He licked his lips and tried to focus on Len’s weight beside him, his steady, silent presence.

“My father couldn’t get close to them. He must not have - He must’ve been blown backward by the chaos, by the sheer power of their magic. He saw me in the doorway, I don’t know how, and had to shake me to get me to pay attention, I was so petrified. He told me to go, to find Joe and be safe, that he was going to help my mother.”

“And you did.”

Barry nodded. His limbs felt as heavy as they had that night, flashes of yellow still playing before him as he bolted down the hall, had to find Joe, had to find Iris, _had to get help before_ -

“It didn’t matter.” It came out as a breath, a useless, near-inaudible exhale of a confession. “It didn’t matter in the end. By the time I found Joe, who was already awake and heading that way, she was drained completely and gone. The man had vanished. And my father… He’d been stabbed through the chest, barely breathing when Joe yelled for the physician. He didn’t last another hour before he - ”

Barry’s eyes burned and he had to open them, had to look at Len, at _something_ so he didn’t see all the blood. As if sensing his panic, Len hesitantly reached out and laid a hand, stilted and uncertain, on his knee. Barry attempted to smile in thanks but it came out more like a grimace.

“But of course they wouldn’t tell you that. No one wants to hear about how the prince didn’t save his own parents when he had the chance, or even about the damn killer. Joe doesn’t - he didn’t believe me for months when I tried to explain what he looked like, what had happened. He didn’t believe me, not until - ”

The words stuck to his throat, clinging despite his best efforts to dispel the thick lump forming as he trailed off.

_Until he saw my own lightning. Until he realized I could do magic like that._

“That’s not your fault,” Len murmured. “Your father told you to run. You were only a child, you would’ve been killed too.”

“But if I had run earlier, or faster or…” Barry scrubbed at his face and forced himself to let out a deep breath. “It’s just… I couldn’t even save _them_. If I can’t make the right choice in a life-threatening situation of my own, how can I protect my allies much less my own people? I could hurt them or worse, and I’m not - I’m too impulsive. If I act now without knowing, while I have the chance to find out everything I need so I don’t make a horrible mistake, more people will get hurt than helped. That’s why I didn’t… That’s why I haven’t…”

“Why you haven’t bothered learning the laws, or speaking to the people yourself,” Len finished, his grip loosening on Barry’s knee.

“I talked to Wells initially about it,” Barry said, and he wanted to wince at how weak his voice sounded, how frail his excuse was. “I wanted to know but… I just kept thinking of that night and Wells assured me it’d be alright if I wanted to learn from afar instead for now, and there just never came a good time to take charge, I guess. Which sounds awful, and it is. But every decision I’ve made usually leads to trouble or someone getting hurt and I can’t - Len, I can’t do that to everyone in the kingdom just because I’m afraid. I can’t hurt the giants or the ogres, even, not if they’re right because I didn’t do my damn duty.”

“They are right. You didn’t.”

Barry’s heart plummeted and he swallowed hard as he met Len’s gaze, full of an intensity he didn’t know how to read or match. The hand moved from his knee, and he missed the comfort of it more than he cared to admit. He felt more than a little ridiculous, complaining about something he should’ve been responsible for, something others had been _telling_ him he was responsible for, even if it hadn’t been in as blunt terms as Len had put it, when there were far bigger problems to worry over.

But Len didn’t let him look away, bringing both hands to cup his neck and Barry’s eyes widened at the contact before he could check himself. Those deft fingers traced the hairs at his nape with light presses, as if ensuring each one was there.

“You didn’t do a thing about it. You didn’t know about any of this, and yes, you should have.” Len tilted his head, and something relaxed in his face, easing away the usual tension. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t fix it. You saw the way Raymond looked at you when you offered help. He _knows_ you can do it if you try. You can be scared for the rest of your life, or up until your coronation, but you’re not going to know if you’re going to ruin anything if you don’t give it a shot, Barry.”

“Fighting ogres is different than politics and diplomacy,” Barry tried, but Len tapped the back of his neck and shook his head.

“You’ve already saved lives without someone telling you what to do, mine included. On multiple occasions, at that. Impulsive or not, you’ve already proved you can handle yourself on your own and smooth over situations.” Len smiled, the most genuine one Barry had gotten in all their time together, and it made his breath hitch. “I don’t think you need to be scared of anything.”

He didn’t quite believe him - couldn’t, after all these years, and likely wouldn’t no matter how much Len repeated it - but the affirmation was a dam that broke, the final straw, and heat tickled the base of his spine as a lull of voices soothed him while his magic started to surge.

Now wasn’t the time for that, though, and he pushed the sensation down with a grateful nudge, appeased when his skin didn’t spark.

Len did begin to tense when Barry gave him a watery smile, but this time Barry didn’t let him draw back. He caught Len’s hands where they were inching away from his neck and twined his fingers with Len’s, just like Iris used to with him as a boy. Given how little Lisa and Len touched, he wondered if he’d ever experienced anything like that.

To his credit, Len didn’t yank away, though he kept that considering stare pointed at Barry, taking him in. He felt a little selfish, but there was something he didn’t understand in the other’s eyes that made him want to hold on tighter.

“I think they would’ve liked you,” Barry told him, unable to hide the honesty coloring his words, and he was more than relieved when his voice came out steady.

“Who?”

“My parents.”

Len arched an eyebrow. “The King and Queen? Considering how much both of your lovely Wests have adored me so far…”

“They weren’t like that,” Barry chided. “Not that Joe is a bad parent, or substitute - which he’s not, not really - but my mother and father… They were more open-minded, I suppose if that makes any sense. Liked to judge people once they got to know them. Give second chances.” He considered Len’s opinion of Wells and had to laugh, even if it was strained. “Much more benevolent rulers than you’re used to, I guess.”

Len didn’t laugh, or smirk like Barry thought he might, eyes tracing Barry’s face slow and unflinchingly like he always had. Like he knew something Barry didn’t and he’d only understand Barry’s point of view if he took a closer look. His voice was soft when he spoke after a few moments.

“The way I see it, you’re going to make just as great of a king.”

Of all he’d heard from Wells and Joe and even Iris, all the reassurances and encouragements as they attempted to help him through the years, somehow Len’s hushed words were enough, blunt as he’d been. This stranger, this thief who snapped at him sometimes and urged him to be better while he urged the same from Len.

This man who disliked everything Barry seemed to stand for and everyone around him, who still _tried_ to be a good person even if he didn’t believe it and _believed_ in Barry nonetheless.

There were scant inches between them, mere breaths, but that space was too much and too little all at once and Barry’s heart flew to his throat, caught and pinned, a bird fluttering in a cage, as he let his gaze slide to Len’s lips for an instant. By the time he glanced up, Len had already tracked the movement, hands entwined with Barry’s lowering to lie beside Barry’s hip.

He wet his lips and a thrill raced through him when Len’s eyes darted down to watch, dark in a way he had never noticed before.

It was impossible to tell who leaned forward first, who made the first move, but in the blink of an eye, Barry found himself even closer, their hands dropped and released as Len’s forehead grazed his own. There was no one upstairs, no one who they wouldn’t hear coming, but he was wound more tightly than he’d ever been in his life and yet still hesitant to bridge the gap.

Len inclined his head and the tips of their noses skimmed one another, and the tension threatened to snap at the silliness of it, leaving Barry struggling not to laugh. Satisfaction crept into Len’s expression, probably seeing right through him, the ass.

“Kiss me,” he muttered without thinking.

Immediately that expression started to fall, Len moving closer with a furrow in his brow. Barry realized his mistake in a second and held a hand to Len’s mouth quickly with wide eyes, feeling Len’s skin buzz beneath his palm.

“Oh, no, no, that’s not - I didn’t mean for that to sound like a command, I’m sorry. It just slipped out - I didn’t - it’s not an order or - ”

Len pressed a finger to his mouth in turn and - there it was, that cocksure smirk he always toted about. Barry let his hand fall as Len leaned back an inch, running his eyes over Barry like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t know what Len was looking for, but it didn’t appear to take him long to find it.

The finger moved, tracing like his blue eyes always did, over his jaw, his chin, his cheek and Barry exhaled, still jittery and ashamed of himself because Len was the _last_ person he wanted to give orders to, to treat Barry like someone he _had_ to listen to regardless of status.

And yet, strangely, Len didn’t look panicked or irritated or like he’d been used.

He chuckled, a low sound Barry could have shivered from, and their foreheads knocked again, gentler than before.

“I know,” Len whispered.

The finger became Len’s hand and he was cupping Barry’s cheek now, but Barry hardly noticed as the gap closed between them and -

And then they were kissing and nothing else mattered.

It began chaste, tentative despite the confidence Len usually exuded, but the sheer _relief_ of _finally, finally, finally_ knocked Barry off his feet and he leaned into the kiss before Len could change his mind. Barry surged into Len’s space, wrapping his arms around Len’s neck as their bodies slotted together, and found himself falling back once Len pressed into him, unrelentingly warm and holding onto him like he was worried Barry would shove him away at any moment. Which, well, Barry had _no_ intention of doing, not when he was letting Len’s tongue dip between his lips and drinking in - _god,_ the _taste_ of him, cool and heady in his mouth.

Opening his mouth further earned him an earnest hum, and his head fell back against the giant pillow as he wound one hand into the back of Len’s tunic, dragging him ever-nearer. With their bodies flush and Len’s free hand flitting over his skin, smooth touches up his hip to his neck, he couldn’t quite contain his grin. He swore he felt those lips curving into a grin - or maybe it was a smirk, who knew - against his and while it wasn’t the best way to kiss, Barry had a hard time remembering why he’d want to pull away.

They did have to, of course, because oxygen was a little important, but one look at the undeniably smug look on Len’s face, a pure “cat who got the cream” expression if he ever saw one, sent Barry careening forward to yank Len back down with him.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” The tease was clear, even without the drifting circles Len was rubbing into his skin, his mouth moving to Barry’s neck despite the (rather embarrassing, in retrospect) whine that escaped him.

“Don’t see you complaining,” Barry shot back.

Len gave a half-shrug which only proved his point. “Never said I was, _Scarlet_.” The way his eyes darkened at the unexpected shiver that wracked Barry was something he wanted to memorize alongside every shift and curl to his features, every breathy noise he tried to squash.

A small nip under his jaw made Barry gasp, grabbing the back of Len’s head, fingernails scraping over his shorn hair. The approving noise it wrung out of him made Barry snort.

Why hadn’t they done this before?

Why had they even waited?

Barry slid a hand down to Len’s waist as the barely-there sensation of teeth neared his earlobe and he had to bite his lower lip so he didn’t let out another unseemly noise. Yes, this settled it. They were definitely doing this again.

Huh. Maybe Iris had been right about the whole “he’s trouble” talk.

For...more reasons than one.

Barry sincerely hoped Len didn’t notice the crackle starting up across his skin, because that was the _last_ thing he wanted to discuss when they were doing _this_.

Impatient and desperate for a distraction, Barry tugged at Len’s tunic until the thief lifted himself away from his neck - though he doubted he’d remember, he made a mental note that maybe checking for marks later would be a good idea. Len raised an eyebrow as if to say _yes?_

“You’re impossible,” Barry said. It came out much more fond than he intended.

Len looked slightly taken aback with surprise, but he just laughed and shook his head. He leaned down over Barry, almost straddling him now with how awkwardly they’d fallen onto the pillow, and Barry swallowed as Len’s breath fanned over his face.

“That so?” _Damn_ that drawl of his. Barry could listen to him talk all day.

“Well - ”

A thundering crash downstairs sent Len’s head jerking up and toward the stairs, and Barry would’ve mourned the loss more if he hadn’t nearly flattened himself into the pillow trying to look as well.

He was tempted to ignore the noise. It could be a simple fight amongst giants. Drunken giants at that.

Though he didn’t like the idea of Iris, Lisa, and Mick down there struggling not to be crushed on the bar counter.

Len heaved a sigh, perhaps thinking the same, and Barry was ready to try and assure him nothing was wrong -

“Get _back_!” A near-scream rang out, and several people gasped as glass shattered - the windows, most likely - and a howling roar followed suit.

Every bone in Len’s body tensed as one, the softness to his features gone. “ _Lisa_.”

“Right. Right.” Barry hesitated but Len was already scrambling to his feet and he shook himself, hating the twinge of disappointment in his gut. “We should - ”

Another yell, this time from Mick before Lisa yelled something unintelligible and the tavern’s walls _groaned_.

That didn’t sound good.

The sickening feeling of being overpowered with that outpouring from the stream earlier returned, a swell of heat pulsing through the air, and Barry felt like keeling over.

It couldn’t be...

“Shit,” Len swore and he was by the stairs before Barry could get a word out, leaving him only a moment of pause before he followed, urging the magic under his skin to ease away into a dull hum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


End file.
